Dreams of Enchantment
by Mister Bear
Summary: (Chapter Three posted!) Harry wakes up one morning to discover he's not actually a wizard, his parents are still alive, and Malfoy's his... BOYFRIEND?! Is this a bad dream, and if so, can he wake up? WARNING: SLASH. If it offends you, just don't read.
1. Chapter One

Title: Dreams Of Enchantment  
Author: Mister Bear (Collectively: Krissy & Cassie)  
Pairings: Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione  
Rating: PG-13 (so far)  
Warnings: slash (which means boys snogging!), AU?  
Notes: What started as an innocent piece of fluff as escalated into a rather epic tale. Okay, okay, so, we love to torture Harry, and we make it blatantly obvious.  
Disclaimer: All the characters belong to J.K. "I'm Your Goddess" Rowling. We're only using them for our sadistic pleasures. ;D  
  
//...// denotes thought  
*...* denotes emphasis  
  
  
  
  
  
"Harry, wake up!"  
  
Harry Potter opened his eyes, blinking blearily into the sunlight fluttering through the open window. Birds chirped happily on the tree outside the window, making sure that Harry followed his mum's orders.  
  
Wait. ...His mum?  
  
"Mum?" he asked, hesitating. The red-head came to his doorway, peeking into the room, and a brilliant smile crept across her lips.  
  
"Yes, dear? I'm glad you're awake; now you can get up. Your friends are downstairs, waiting for you."  
  
"They are?" Harry asked, disbelieving. Why was his mum here? Hadn't Voldemort killed her years and years ago? Ignoring the nod that his mum gave, Harry stared curiously at her. Her hair fell to her waist, shining in the light, and her eyes sparkled a deep green, which appeared different shades of green when she shifted.  
  
Frowning, Lily Potter stepped into the room, stepping over piles of clothing and scattered books and sports equipment, and brought her hand to his forehead. "Are you feeling all right, Harry?"  
  
"Yes, Mum," Harry replied, shivering under the feel of his mum's hand. Lily's frown deepened at this, and sighed.  
  
"If you're sure..."  
  
"I am," he said quickly. "But... how did you get here? I thought..."  
  
"The business trip ended early, don't you remember? So I came home yesterday afternoon. You were out cold, so your father carried you up here."  
  
"Oh," Harry said blankly, "okay."  
  
"Now hurry up and get dressed. You shouldn't keep Ron, 'Mione, and Draco waiting."  
  
Harry watched his mum leave in horror. Draco? Draco Malfoy? His... friend? Voldemort had to have done *something* to him. He must've thrown him into a parallel universe, or something like that. He'd have to converse with Hermione about this. She had to be smart here, too, right?  
  
Quickly standing, he glanced around the room. The floor was littered in clothing. Jeans, tee-shirts, and socks. Walking over to the dresser, he barely took notice to the sports magazines or the hockey stick lying in the room's corner. He pulled out jeans, a red tee-shirt, and socks from the drawers. After dressing, he carefully looked into the mirror above the dresser. His eyes were the same shade of green as he remembered, and his glasses, that were sitting on the dresser, were a gold frame. His hair was just as black and messy, so why did he feel different? Lifting his bangs, he instantly knew why. No lightning bolt scar.  
  
He was still staring into his mirror when there was a knock on the door.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Harry turned, and found Ron Weasley poking his head into the room. The hair colour was just as bright as he remembered.  
  
"Your mum asked me to come and get you," Ron explained, walking into the room, "because you hadn't come down yet. Are you okay?"  
  
"I'm not fine," Harry confessed, frowning. "Nothing is right."  
  
"Have another fight with Draco?" Ron asked with a knowing smile.  
  
"We fight everyday...." Harry protested weakly.  
  
"Yes, true," Ron agreed with a laugh.  
  
"Ron, can I ask you something strange?" Harry started, then looked expectantly at his friend. Ron nodded, so Harry continued. "Have you ever felt you didn't belong somewhere?"  
  
Ron snorted. "You're asking the person who has five older brothers, a younger sister, and another sister on the way?"  
  
"Another sister on the way?" Harry repeated.  
  
Rolling his eyes, he nodded his head. "Yes, remember? I made that huge deal about it weeks ago? Complaining and whining? And you had to knock sense into me with your hockey stick?"  
  
"Hockey stick?" Harry felt as stupid as he had the day he'd first gone to Diagon Alley.  
  
Exasperated, Ron stared suspiciously at his friend. "Did you hit your head harder at practice than we all thought? Yes, hockey; where, you know, you're team captain and the star player? And Draco and myself are your best players? And where 'Mione's head cheerleader?"  
  
Harry blinked, then stared at Ron before bursting out laughing. "'Mione... a cheerleader? That's...crazy!"  
  
"So are you, it seems," Ron said.  
  
"This *has* to be a joke," Harry muttered. "Does McGonagall know you guys are doing this? We could lose a lot of House points."  
  
"Um, Harry. Why would we care what McGonagall thought when we're on Summer Break? And what are House Points?"  
  
Harry stared at him, "Don't we go to Hogwarts?"  
  
"Yes," Ron agreed, "Hogwarts High School."  
  
"Don't you mean Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"  
  
It was Ron's turn to stare, then burst into laughter. "McGonagall would *suspend* you if she heard *that* coming from you! A witch school!"  
  
"Its true, though," Harry argued. "We're both wizards, and Hermione is a witch."  
  
"And what's Draco?"  
  
"A toad's liver," Harry muttered, then quickly amended, "a wizard, too."  
  
"Uh-huh," Ron snorted, "Right. I'm sure Hermione will just love this. Watch." Ron grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him from his room and down the hall into the living room, where Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were talking among themselves.  
  
"About time," Hermione said, "sleeping late again, Harry?"  
  
"Er, yes," Harry agreed faintly, eyes moving quickly between the two people. Hermione's hair was not how he remembered it. It was long and a darker brown, almost to her waist. Her teeth, like they were supposed to be, were straight and sparkling white. She wore a short dress that came to her knees made of a flower print. Then he glanced sideways at his Slytherin nemesis. His blond hair was cut short, stylishly, and was dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt, like himself. Ron wore the same, except he was in shorts.  
  
"Hey, lover," Draco smiled at him, "should have told me you wanted to stay in bed all day! I would have joined you."  
  
"Um," Harry stuttered, his mind going blank. //Please,// he thought, //don't mean what I think that means.// "What?"  
  
"Ignore him, Harry," Ron said, "he's been whining all day to come and see you. But anyway," Ron turned to look at Hermione, "Harry called you a witch."  
  
"What?" Hermione asked, eyes raising.  
  
"Um, a good witch!" Harry amended, glaring at Ron, who only smiled.  
  
"Really," Hermione mused.  
  
"But it's true, you are...one."  
  
"Oh that's wise," she snorted. "Keep talking and I'll show you what kind of witch I *will* be."  
  
"Oooh," Draco and Ron echoed lowly in unison, and Harry blinked in surprise. Ron... and... Draco... were agreeing on something...?! He felt faint for a moment. And on top of that, Draco had called him *lover.* This was getting a little too weird, and he started to pinch himself, staring at his friends who were nearly strangers.  
  
"You thinking I'm too good to be true again?" Draco leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. "You're so great!"  
  
"Cut it OUT, Malfoy!" Harry insisted, in shock. He was going to reach up and wipe away the soft, warm, moist feeling Draco's lips had left on his cheek, but looking at the expression of perfect surprise on Draco's face, he paused with his arm halfway up.  
  
"I... I... Sorry, Harry..." Draco said, then quickly covered his hurt. "Maybe we shouldn't have woken you, you're an awful grump today."  
  
"Nonsense, he's the one who wanted to go play roller-hockey!" Ron admonished. "Now, kiss and make up so we can go play."  
  
"What are you *talking* about?" Harry moaned.  
  
"Uh, hello," Ron reached out and tapped Harry on the forehead. "Anyone home in there? You called me last night and said you and Draco wanted to go out just for fun and shoot around the puck... uh, that's right, isn't it, Malfoy?"  
  
"Of course," said Draco, who had crossed his arms and was looking smaller and smaller every second. "But we don't have to play if Harry doesn't feel up to it."  
  
Harry suddenly realized he'd hurt Draco's feelings, SOME how, SOME way.  
  
"No, no, I'm sorry," he said from gut instinct, then glanced down at his toes. "I am... I'm just rather out-of-it this morning. Strange dreams."  
  
He trailed off, and suddenly Draco's warm hand was holding his.  
  
"More nightmares? No wonder you look so wonky."  
  
"What kind of nightmares now? The same as before?" Hermione instantly asked, frowning.  
  
"Oh, give it a rest 'Mione," Ron sighed, once again exasperated with a friend. "He's surely not going to babble it all out so Doctor 'Mione will solve his every need."  
  
"It's okay, actually," Harry said, interrupting the beginning of Hermione's retort. "Dumbledore said it would be a good thing to talk to you guys about it..."  
  
All three blinked, staring at Harry.  
  
"When did you go to school and talk to Mr. Dumbledore?" Ron demanded.  
  
"Um... Three days ago," Harry ventured at the confused glances.  
  
"Mr. Dumbledore likes skiing?" Draco asked in disbelief. "I never saw him at the ski resort, Harry, and we were practically joined at the hip."  
  
"Ski resort?" Harry blinked back. Three days ago they had not been skiing. In fact, they had been on the train coming home from Hogwarts, grieving over the death of Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff who had fallen victim to Voldemort. Instant tears came to his eyes as he remembered the Avada Kedavra curse. //It should have been me...//  
  
"Oh, boy," Ron muttered under his breath. "He's in for it now."  
  
Hermione had a very pained look on her face. Suddenly, Malfoy - er, Draco let go of Harry's hand and started to glare.  
  
"Harry," Draco said in an incredibly sharp, Malfoy-ish voice, "that's really not funny!"  
  
"Ohh, boy," repeated Ron, stepping slowly back behind Hermione, who stepped back, too.  
  
"If you're sore over something and don't want to even tell me what," snapped Draco, "then fine. I'll *leave.* But that was horribly uncalled for!"  
  
"Wait a moment!" Harry said, pained. "I'm not mad!"  
  
"Then stop acting like we didn't just have our one-year anniversary!" Draco said, frustrated. "It was one of the best weeks of my entire life, Harry... and..."  
  
//One... year... anniversary... with... MALFOY... at... a... SKI-LODGE?// Harry's mind slowly processed. He found his hand moving suddenly, and the back of his hand touched Draco's softly before his fingers curled around Draco's, causing an immediate softening in those icy eyes Harry knew so well, yet were so unfamiliar.  
  
"I'm... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to act so daft," he said, apologizing yet again for not remembering a fact that his friends found to be so obvious. This day was just shaping up to be too surreal... was he going to wake up any moment now in his warm bed at Hogwarts and hear Seamus' loud laughter, smell the breakfast being cooked in the kitchen, and moan because he forgot to do his Herbology assignment?  
  
"I'm sorry, too... I'm just scared you're going to leave me someday. You know me."  
  
Draco leaned in and rested his forehead gently on Harry's shoulder, and Harry sent a rather alarmed look at Hermione and Ron, who looked considerably relieved.  
  
"Well, that was easy," approved Hermione. "Can we go now, you two, or do you have another hurdle to jump over before you finally get me on a pair of skates?"  
  
Draco laughed into his shoulder, snuggling in a little too close for comfort.  
  
"No, no! I'm looking forward to THAT sight, 'Mione."  
  
"Laugh while you can, Malfoy." She rolled her eyes.  
  
Harry watched the banter and abruptly moved away from Draco, causing him to stumble in surprise. "Uh, listen. I'll meet you guys in a few minutes. Gotta go get my... skates, and check on Hedwig."  
  
Harry didn't notice the confused chorus of "Hedwig?" as he left, in the search for his skates. Or the frown on Draco's face.  
  
His search of his skates led him into the kitchen, where he found four people that he least expected to find. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and... his father.  
  
"Hey, Harry!" Sirius smiled as Harry came into the kitchen. The teen smiled a lop-sided smile, and frowned. "Something wrong?"  
  
"Yes, I mean no..." Harry said. "I don't know. Everything! And why are you in the open, Sirius? With *him*?" Harry pointed at Peter, eyes darkening. Nobody said a word, and finally, his father broke the silence.  
  
"Harry," James started, "Your mum said she didn't think you're feeling very well. Are you sure that you're all right?"  
  
Harry tore his attention from Sirius, and looked at the lanky form of James Potter, and felt his breath catch in his throat. He looked just like all the pictures, and it was almost too much. He blinked several times, telling himself he couldn't cry. Not now, not when he had a chance to talk to him. He wouldn't let *any* of them see him cry, especially Peter, who would for sure note and file that little information away for his master.  
  
James exchanged quick glances with Remus, and spoke again, "Son, you look like you've never seen me before..."  
  
"It's because I haven't!" he choked out in a whisper, and whirled on his feet, leaving the kitchen in a hurry. He barely registered the fact that he left another group of very confused and worried people.  
  
***  
  
//This cannot be real. This absolutely cannot be happening! I'm dreaming. Surely I'm dreaming!//  
  
Blood pulsing through his veins and pounding in his ears, Harry darted through the dining room and down the hallway to his room, leaving Ron, Hermione, and Malfoy all sitting in the living room.  
  
//Have to... wake up...!//  
  
The back of his mind seemed to know the floor plan of this house by heart, and he didn't have to think about it to get to what he knew was his room at all. And of course, upon storming through the door and slamming it loudly behind him, he suddenly realized this, and broke out into a cold sweat.  
  
His body slumped back against the door and he closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing. Harry tried to recall something, anything about - his real life...  
  
Snowflakes and Hermione with a flame in a jar, her black robes swishing around her feet.  
  
Ron submerged deep under water, fast asleep, with an eerie greenish light cast over his features.  
  
Malfoy with mud dripping down his face, staring at a spot six feet away from Harry, who had been under his invisibility cloak at the time.  
  
finding his wand - or rather, his wand finding him - at Ollivander's, feeling the magic rustle back his hair...  
  
His wand.  
  
Harry set to tear apart his room, ripping his clothes off the floor and tossing them onto his mussed-up bed, in search of his wand.  
  
//Please... it *has* to be here somewhere! If this is a dream... well, you can control dreams, right? Lucid dreaming! My wand is *somewhere* in here!//  
  
A knock sounded at his door, but Harry ignored it in favor of plowing through his closet. A few moments later, it opened a little.  
  
"Cleaning your room, are you?" asked Malfoy's voice.  
  
"Looking for my wand!" replied Harry, distracted.  
  
Draco closed the door behind him, casting a significantly worried look at Harry. "Your... what?"  
  
"My..." Harry paused to sit back on his haunches and look at Malfoy, whose eyes were wide with concern. "Skates," he finished for some reason.  
  
Draco hopped easily over a pile of magazines. "Why, are they not under your bed?"  
  
"Oh. Under the bed. Good idea," grunted Harry, continuing to paw through the miscellaneous junk in his closet. Harry heard the squeaking of springs as Draco sat on the edge of Harry's bed, moving a pile of tee shirts and jerseys back.  
  
"Talk to me, Harry," he said reproachfully. "Something's bothering you... if you're not ill, what's wrong? Your mum and dad are sort of worried... and... well, so am I..."  
  
"Where's - er - my hockey stick?" asked Harry distractedly. "I do have one, don't I?"  
  
"What? It's in the garage with your padding, for Christ's sake! HARRY!"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Harry stopped and sat back again, panting a little. Draco's face was positively confused. He looked down for a moment, then patted the clear space next to him on Harry's bed.  
  
"Come sit next to me."  
  
The proximity implied made Harry pale, then blush. Avoiding Malfoy's eyes, Harry slowly got up and made his way to the bed, all sorts of thoughts running through his head. Namely, how could he be with Malfoy here when he hated him so much? And Malfoy hated him, too, it wasn't like it was a one-sided disgust. He took extra care not to sit *too* close to the boy.  
  
There came a finger to his chin.  
  
"Look at me."  
let Malfoy direct his face up and towards him reluctantly, and had to hold back a small gasp of shock. Draco's eyes were so much more open than he'd ever seen them before, and it was almost like... he could see past the smoky-gray irises into Draco's mind.  
  
"Now," Draco prompted softly. "Talk to me."  
  
"I think I'm going mad," said Harry immediately, wishing he could look away again. But Draco's face was warm, had a flush of happy life in it, and it was too startlingly pretty not to look at.  
  
//Pretty, no, I didn't just think that...! I've stayed too long!//  
  
"Oh, well, we all think that about you. After all, you're no ordinary boy, Harry."  
  
Smiling, Draco moved his finger up Harry's jawline, then slid a soft hand over his cheek.  
  
"No?" Harry asked dully, wondering whyever not. He wasn't a wizard. He didn't have a wand or a snowy owl. And if Voldemort hadn't killed his parents, then he wasn't The Boy Who Lived, so what made him anything but ordinary?  
  
Harry found himself closing his eyes slowly as Draco's hand made it back around his neck, toying with the hair there gently. But he opened them again when he realized what he was doing.  
  
"Mmm, of course not. You've been the star of the Lions for years now, you're the most talented bloke at school. You're half past mad with all you take on..."  
  
"All I take on," echoed Harry. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an entire bookcase full of trophies. Hockey ribbons and trophies were practically overflowing the shelves, as well as newspaper articles ("'Time Out' With Harry Potter - Meet The Year's Most Valued Junior Athlete") and other things he couldn't even begin to sort out.  
  
"Don't let it get to you, Harry. You know I'm always going to be here for you," Malfoy said softly. "And Ron and Hermione, too... they've been your best friends way longer than I've known you... you have to let them help you. And you have to start getting out and having fun. We had a lot of fun at the lodge, didn't we?"  
  
Draco placed a comforting arm around Harry's shoulders, and from somewhere, an immense sense of relief flooded through Harry's body. He let his enemy pull him in a little closer, cheek pressing against Harry's head comfortingly.  
  
//I wish... I could remember,// Harry thought distantly, calling up all his mental pictures of Malfoy from the first time they'd met in Madam Malkin's...  
  
"I love you, Harry. Just remember that, won't you?"  
  
Harry froze at the words, completely shocked.  
  
//Draco... Malfoy. Malfoy loves me. We just had our one-year anniversary... we've been together for... so long... and he loves me?//  
  
Draco's other hand caressed gentle fingers on Harry's chin, tilting his face up once more, and Harry's breath left him as Draco pressed soft, sensitive lips onto his. There was a flush of surprise, then of panic, then of something else entirely that had no name. Draco's mouth was gentle and experienced-feeling upon his, gently trying to coax Harry's mouth into movement with his.  
  
//I... I'm not ready for this!// Harry panicked. But to his surprise, Draco didn't push, or pull back and question his unresponsiveness, only moving his lips tenderly.  
  
//I love you, Harry,// Draco had said. //Just remember that, won't you?//  
  
And suddenly, Harry was timidly moving his mouth back, scared out of his wits, but not wanting to move from the sweet, soft pressure.  
  
Draco's fingers curled a little at the back of Harry's head, and Harry could tell that this kiss meant a lot to Draco. He put a little more effort into it, and then Draco delivered another thing he wasn't ready for: tongue. Harry gasped sharply at the warm, wet intrusion, and cursed himself afterwards for his stupidity. The gasp had left his mouth wide open for Draco, who seemed to like familiarizing (refamiliarizing, realized Harry, flushing heatedly) himself with Harry's tongue. At first, it was completely unsavory, and Harry wanted to gag, but after a few moments, he grew used to the intruding, wet, hot feel of it, trying to be brave and participate, and it slowly grew... actually... rather pleasurable.  
  
And naturally, Draco pulled back just when Harry was beginning to like it.  
  
"Hm," Draco smiled. "You really are out of it today... that reminded me of our first French kiss."  
  
Harry reddened even more.   
  
"Remember it?" Draco asked fondly. Harry nodded, though he had no actual memory of the event. "At the homecoming game... in the bleachers, under Ron's jacket..."  
  
Draco had apparently gotten in the mood for another kiss, even a sloppy one, because he attacked Harry's mouth again. This time, Harry was semi-prepared, and it actually felt good to have Draco pressing him back into the pile of soft clothes, flat chest against his, tongue insistent and frantic with his. And Draco made an intensely interesting noise in the back of his throat that made Harry feel funny in places he didn't know had nerve endings.  
  
The two of them jumped when the door opened again, and to their relief, it was just Ron peering in.  
  
"Oh, jeez, do you two ever engage in any OTHER kind of stimulating activity?"  
  
The innocent smile Draco gave Ron said it all.  
  
"Well, since you've taken my advice on the kiss and make up issue, what say we actually go out and play some hockey now?"  
  
"Oh, if we must," Draco said lazily, in the exact kind of drawl Harry would have expected from him normally. Harry coughed, embarrassed, and Draco moved a little to let him sit up dizzily.  
  
"My... gear. Is. In the garage," Harry panted.  
  
"Indeed," said his boyfriend, smiling. "And your skates?"  
  
"Under the bed," said Harry.  
  
Draco just laughed. "Let's go. It's the nicest day ever outside... and I intend to laugh quite heartily at Hermione trying to skate."  
  
***  
  
"Harry, are you okay?" Harry sat up, looking dazedly around his surroundings. A park -- it appeared to be the park a block from the Dursleys' -- how did he get *here*? Ron and Hermione stared worriedly down at him.  
  
"Oh, yeah," he assured them, blinking as the sunlight hit his eyes as they shifted. "I had the strangest dream. That I woke up to this place I didn't know, and I had parents, and Malfoy was my *boyfriend.*"  
  
There was a silence, and Harry continued on, oblivious, "And, get this, you guys were there, trying to convince me I'm a hockey player, and I've never been on a pair of skates in my *life*! Give me a broom, and the Quidditch field, any day, I tell you. I still remember when I was seven and Dudley tried to get me on skates, and I broke my leg in two places, because he pushed me down a hill. And how did I get here, anyway?"  
  
"How hard did he hit his head?" Harry turned when he heard the voice of Draco Malfoy, approaching with ice in a hand towel. Draco knelt in front of him, staring hard at his face. His lips were in a tight frown as he applied the towel to Harry's head, even before he could squeak out a protest.  
  
"He might have a concussion," Hermione murmured, tearing her eyes from Harry and looking at Draco.  
  
"Concussion?" Draco asked in shock. "I don't think he hit the wall THAT hard. Can you get up, Harry?" Draco offered a hand to help him up.  
  
"Yes, of course," he snapped, ignoring Draco's hand. The world turned topsy-turvy, and he crashed back to the hard cement. He faintly realized that he was in a pair of skates. //It's not a dream?// Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. What *happened* to him?  
  
"Are you sure you're okay?" Draco asked again.  
  
"I.... Maybe I could use some help," Harry finally consented. Draco smiled warmly at him, and took his hand, bringing him wobbly to his feet.  
  
"Can you skate?" Ron asked, backing up from the duo. "Maybe you should rest, Harry..." he added when Harry wobbled, and stumbled back into Draco.  
  
"Maybe he just wants someone to hold him," Draco snickered, placing his arms firmly around Harry's waist. "Not that I blame him."  
  
Harry was busy turning red again with the feel of Draco's arms in a circle around him. Hermione smiled, and Ron just raised his eyes heavenward like he'd *never* get used to seeing Harry and Draco together, even though they'd apparently been dating for a year.  
  
"I'm fine," he sighed stubbornly, shaking his head. It was like there was a massive gray cloud in some areas of it, and he was so sick and tired of being so confused, and it all felt so REAL, even though it couldn't possibly be. After all, he harbored no memories of befriending Ron and Hermione other than at Hogwarts, no memory of spending time with Draco if they weren't slinging insults or mud. But he kept trying to remember, and nothing was coming, and all he felt was frustration and confusion and discomfort at being upon a pair of roller blades that threatened to slip from under him and land him on his head again.  
  
"I'm beginning to think you *are* ill, Harry, and of course, you'd never admit it," Hermione speculated. "You seem weak and irritable... I've never seen you not be able to brake on your skates before."  
  
"You probably laid awake all night thinking too much. Idiot." Draco squeezed him a little. It was such a contrast, being held so affectionately and being spoken to in that Malfoy tone.  
  
"Harry's resilient!" Ron clapped him on the back, and with his wrist guard on, he made quite a crack on Harry, who nearly slipped and would have landed on his arse if he hadn't been supported by Draco. "He always bounces back. Another go, then? What do you say?"  
  
Harry mumbled, "Sure."  
  
"You're all against me," sighed Hermione, as shaky on her skates as Harry was on his. "If this is another ploy to get me on my back, Ron Weasley..."  
  
Ron just grinned and skated away before Hermione could whack him with her hockey stick.  
  
"So, Harry, love, when are we going to have a repeat of the ski trip?" At Harry's blank look, Draco whispered into his ear. Harry's face went scarlet, and he began to stumble on his skates.  
  
Hermione watched from where she skated aimlessly in a circle, trying to get the feel of not being grounded on the ground. Glancing to Ron, she said, "Something tells me we aren't going to do anymore skating today. Should we head back?"  
  
Ron, oblivious to her comment, began to skate, circling the puck. After a moment of silence, Hermione smiled as she was able to move over behind him, and with a smack of her stick, sent the puck flying.  
  
"Hey!" Ron protested, whirling to look at her. His eyes widened, "You stayed up this time!"  
  
"All in a day's work," she said proudly.  
  
"Uh, guys..." Draco began, looking up from Harry. His eyes narrowed as he watched the puck disappear. "It went into Knockturn Alley. Those Slytherin bastards are going to be pissed."  
  
"Slytherin? Knockturn Alley?" Harry perked up, then quickly frowned at the looks he received.  
  
"Great," Ron moaned dramatically, "that's the fourth puck we've lost this week! Diagon Alley Rentals aren't going to be happy with us, you know."  
  
"Diagon Alley?" Harry said, dumbly. This was getting *too* weird. Almost every person or place he knew was here. The worlds were mixing, and... and...  
  
"Duh, Harry," Ron said, "you know, where we skate everyday?"  
  
"Oh, right," Harry agreed faintly.  
  
"I think," Hermione began, "we better get home before they send Crabbe and Goyle after us again. I still have nightmares from the *last* time they confronted us."  
  
"I'm with you," Ron said, and Draco nodded his agreement. Harry just followed them, lost in his own thoughts.  
  
***  
  
As they walked from the park opposite the direction of Knockturn Alley, they stepped into a bustling, colorful-looking street full of shops and restaurants of all sorts, stretching down a clean street. Harry peered around for street signs - and sure enough, Diagon Alley crossed with Privet Drive. He must have made an incredibly odd face, for Draco nudged him.  
  
"For the millionth time, you're not going to be sick into the nearest trash can, are you?"  
  
"No, I just..."  
  
Draco's face clouded over momentarily. "Oh," he whispered. "Of course. I'm sorry."  
  
Harry paused, pretending to look in the window of a place called Malkin's Finery. Was Draco finally getting a clue? Suddenly understanding that Harry was *not* his Harry? He could see Draco's hushed face in the reflection, standing behind him. Ron and Hermione were up ahead, walking still without notice that they'd stopped.  
  
"You do understand... don't you.... Draco?" Harry found himself murmuring slowly. Draco slid a hand around his waist.  
  
"You know I do," he assured Harry softly. Harry's heart took a shallow dive. No. Draco didn't understand. He was still going on about being tired. Being sick. Whatever they all thought he was.  
  
//Probably completely insane,// he realized. //I've been harking about Mum and Dad being dead, and... they're not... here. This can't be a dream... the sunlight is too warm... I smell Italian food... Draco's mouth... I can still taste him. What is this place, and why have I woken up here? Maybe Voldemort really did send me into a parallel world... and if he did... how do I get back?//  
  
He stared at his forehead in the window.  
  
//Do I... want to go back to a place where my parents are dead and everyone's out to kill me?//  
  
"No," Draco yelled, and Harry whirled around.  
  
"What?!" he yelped. Had Draco heard his thoughts??  
  
"Oh. Do you *want* to get ice cream?" asked Draco, looking at him with surprise.  
  
"Get ice cream?" he asked blankly. "What?"  
  
"See," sighed Draco, "this is exactly my point. You're not functioning well today. I think we ought to head back to your house... but if you do want to get ice cream with Ron and Hermione, that's fine, too."  
  
"Oh..." Harry breathed in realization, catching onto the fact that Ron and Hermione were making a tinkly bell sound as they waved and entered a quaint ice cream shoppe. He stared at the chiseled glass of its clean main window. Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor.  
  
So it existed here, too.  
  
It was all just... too much. Every time he adjusted slightly, something new came along, and he grew even more confused and bewildered. If this was a dream, it was a pretty powerful dream... and if not... he didn't even want to think about his life at the Dursleys' and at Hogwarts being a dream. It couldn't possibly be. Ever! All his memories, all his times... it was just as real as this.  
  
//I'm not crazy... I'm not... What's happening... I'm so scared...//  
  
"I'd like to go home," he told Draco softly, suddenly stepping in much closer to the boy. The blonde boy looked triumphant, but in a nice way instead of a malicious one. His face was so much more handsome when it wasn't sour and superior-looking.  
  
"I know you better than you know yourself, silly git. If you want," Draco added as an after-thought, "we can make eyes at your mum and get her to make us a milkshake... your house always has that kind of stuff, right? I bet she will. And then we can share it, just the two of us... without strangers to stare at you. Does that sound nice?"  
  
Harry nodded, profoundly thankful. Even if Draco didn't understand that Harry didn't belong here, he understood that something wasn't right... and though Harry wasn't *his* Harry, he seemed to know just what to say to make him feel a little better about everything.  
  
***  
  
Harry and Draco walked home in silence, their gear in opposite hands and the hands between them joined (it was sweaty... why did Draco want to hold a sweaty hand?) and their eyes taking in the cheerful neighborhood full of old, but happy, houses. As they walked along the sidewalk, their hands swung a little, and their skates dangled against their back annoyingly, but Harry found that he was getting a bit more comfortable with the status-quo of his relationship with this Malfoy... even if that risqué comment was completely more than he needed to know and the first kiss Harry had tasted earlier hung in the back of his mind heavily. But... holding hands... a peck on the cheek... Draco liked him here, and it was pointless to argue. The last thing he needed, Harry realized, was Malfoy hating him here, too. He held Draco's hand back.  
  
//This life is a lot less eventful, but it's... nice not to have death hanging everywhere like ugly curtains. And I want to hug my Mum and Dad so much when we get home.//   
  
Home... the word felt lovely just to think about.  
  
Home turned out to be back up Diagon Alley, through the park, up a quiet road, and left onto a street called Godric's Hollow. It wasn't nearly as fussy as the Privet Drive Harry had lived on with the Dursleys'; it had much more personality, and Harry liked it so much more just from the mere sight of it. The house was wooden with buttercup yellow shutters and daisies growing in the front garden.  
  
He followed Draco's lead into his driveway, which he only vaguely recognized as being his, as one would in a dream even if they were walking into a house they'd never lived in. He hopped a little through the tiny front lawn in excitement to see his parents. Draco shot him a grin, and Harry found it lovely, squeezing Draco's hand.  
  
"You're a wonder today."  
  
"So are you," said Harry, in amusement. If only Draco could understand... he seemed as if he could. He was so much nicer, so much more open and real, that Harry wanted to slap himself.  
  
//I've managed to land one of those boyfriends they profile in Witch Weekly,// he thought to himself. He and Draco cut through the garage, leaving their gear at the door in a messy heap. As an afterthought, Cho came to mind. //I wonder... I... wonder if she's here too? And Cedric...//  
  
A pang of pain made his stomach flop, but it soon disappeared as they opened the door to the kitchen and Harry heard his mother calling out,  
  
"Hello? Boys, is that you?"  
  
"We're home," Harry found himself calling back. Lily's smiling face made his heart break. She was *so* beautiful, and so... alive. Breaking from Draco, Harry strode forward and threw his arms around her shoulders.  
  
"Oh! Harry," she laughed, surprised at first, then hugging him back with equal intensity. "Is everything all right?"   
  
"Yes," Harry whispered, breathing in the kitcheny, clean, soapy smell of her. His eyes welled up even though he was squinching the urge to cry. "Yes..."  
  
//For the first time, everything's all right.//  
  
"... Are you sure?" she laughed a little, but she sounded worried.  
  
"We decided that home would be the better option today," Draco stated vaguely, closing the kitchen door with a squeak. Harry hugged her, still, not able to speak; he tried to convey how much love he felt through his hug only barely remembering not to squeeze the woman to death.  
  
"Oh, I see." His mum's arms tightened around him, and two tears leaked onto her soft sweater. Harry sniffed a little and squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the tears. Then, he saw his father sitting at the dining room table, looking up from the chess board he and Remus Lupin were sitting at with a quizzical, somewhat concerned look on his face. And Harry managed to step away from his mom, walking blindly towards his dad.  
  
"Harry? Son, what's..."  
  
James Potter found himself with a heap of hockey player in his lap, awkward because Harry was nearly the size of him, and too old to be sitting on his lap anyway. But he squeezed Harry to him anyway, feeling tears on his neck.  
  
"I'm sorry," Harry's muffled voice said. "I'm just happy you're alive."  
  
Remus and James shared a careful look.  
  
"I'm happy too, Harry. I am too."  
  
His father smelled like shaving cream and, eternally, like the Gryffindor common room. He breathed in deeply. The smell was so familiar that it was comforting. The smell of the common room existed here, even. Or maybe he'd made up the smell of the common room from the way his father smelled.  
  
God, he was so confused. So scared. But his father's arms were strong around him. He felt protected. It was amazing.  
  
He turned his head on his father's shoulder so he could stare at his mum, trying to keep the tears blinked away. Lily was looking back at him, with his very eyes set into her beautiful, delicate face. Draco stood next to her. Harry managed a smile at them both.  
  
His mum jumped a little, like she was embarrassed for something, sending an impish grin back at him. Harry nearly melted with complete adoration. He loved his mum and dad so much... so much.  
  
Lily glanced at Draco, who smiled uneasily at her. She reached up a hand and ruffled his blond hair into a mess, like Harry's hair constantly was. It looked odd to see Draco's carefully-kept hair looking so ruffled, like he'd just stepped off the Quidditch field.   
  
"And how are you, Draco?"  
  
"Brilliant, Mum," grinned Draco, sheepish at the hand through his hair.  
  
//He calls her 'Mum'!// Harry bit back an amazed snort. His father patted him on the back, and he sat up, immediately trying to slide fingers under the frames of his glasses and wipe away the tear tracks on his cheeks.  
  
"You all right, mate?" his father smiled at him. Harry couldn't help a grin not unlike Draco's sheepish one.  
  
"I'm feeling better."  
  
"Just not ready to go out and face it all quite yet, are you?" James pulled him in for another embrace.  
  
"You have no idea," murmured Harry, wondering how his father could be so empathetic. Had he recently been ill here? Everyone was treating him as if he might break at any moment - that he was incoherent or suffering a relapse when he'd babbled about Dumbledore. Perhaps the trip to the ski lodge Draco had mentioned had gotten him sick or something... everyone was certainly acting like it.  
  
"You just better sit in here with us for a while," advised James, running thin, long fingers through Harry's hair. "If you want to talk, you know we're here."  
  
Harry nodded, even though he felt like he ought to be shaking his head. The last thing he wanted to do was slip up talking about something that was different here than in the real world...   
  
"Mum?" he spoke up tentatively. Lily looked at him, and he realized he hadn't actually had anything to say... he just liked saying her name out loud as such. So he quickly pulled something out of nowhere. "Do we have any ice cream?"  
  
"Ice cream? About five cartons full," his mum laughed, walking to the freezer. "Sundae or shake, kiddo?"  
  
"Shake..." Harry glanced at Draco. "Just one... Draco and I want to share it."  
  
Draco nearly beamed.  
  
***  
  
Listening to the conversation at the table, Harry had picked up on several things. One, it was completely uncomfortable to be sitting here at the table across from Peter Pettigrew, who was laughing loudly with the Marauders like they were the best of friends. Which... they were, he supposed. Two, there was no mention of Death Eaters, Voldemort, Snape, or anything ill in nature. They all seemed determined to keep things light, and Harry mostly listened instead of joining in on the conversation.  
  
Harry and Draco were squished into one chair, Harry half on Draco's lap, which he found okay, for some reason. It was like was a puzzle piece, and all day he'd been trying to slip into place, but the corners weren't exactly matching up, and now, sitting with Draco, his parents, his godfather, and his favorite teacher, he seemed to be tentatively edging into place. They all laughed and poked at each other around him, and he and Draco shared the most excellent milkshake Harry had ever had. His mum was beautiful, shining next to his grinning dad, who was as devious as Sirius. Lupin was healthy-looking, getting his fair share of jabs in at his friends while somehow looking amazingly innocent next to his dad and Sirius, and Peter just laughed and seemed like a happy, nice person, so different from the panicking man who had begged for his life that Harry had always known, always hated.  
  
He tried to take it all in, but he didn't understand most of it, and he was feeling immensely tired from the stress of the day. He started to droop back against Draco, who only cuddled him reassuringly, even in front of his parents. Harry supposed that they had gone to the ski-lodge with them...  
  
Most of all, three: his mum loved Draco. She was always smiling at them like they were unbearably cute, like Hermione, while his dad keenly avoided any issues that involved Harry and Draco's love life, changing all the conversation that veered towards Draco onto something else. It was puzzling, but Harry understood... it's the way he would have acted.  
  
The most blatant example came when his mum said,  
  
"Darling, you look so tired. You must not have slept a wink last night... perhaps you should go lay down?"  
  
Harry found himself nodding wearily, and he and Draco stood.  
  
"Hmm, Draco... if you go with him, leave the door open a bit, huh?" his dad asked, peering at Draco, who laughed uncomfortably and made an agreeing noise.  
  
Remus made a coughing sound, and Sirius only smiled lopsidedly, saying, "You look beat, you do."  
  
"Want me to wake you for dinner?" his mum asked, and Harry thought for a moment.  
  
"No," he declined. "I'm full from the shake, thanks."  
  
Lily looked dubious. "You only had half a shake... and no breakfast."  
  
"C'mon, Harry, you need something in you," Draco poked at him, and suddenly Remus choked and James did a double-take. Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, honestly..."  
  
Sirius hid his mouth behind his hand and tried to look unamused, and was failing desperately. Peter was rather red.  
  
"James, really." Lily nearly smacked her husband on the arm. "You're as immature as the day I married you."  
  
James managed a grin. "Thanks."  
  
The Marauders all began to laugh... hard. Draco was slowly stepping behind Harry.  
  
"Er..." Harry finally said, "bye then."  
  
"Have a good rest, you two," Lily said reassuringly, then hot glares at the four men around her.  
  
***  
  
Draco purposefully shut the door. "I don't suppose your dad will ever tire of making me squirm."  
  
"Aren't you supposed to leave that open?" asked Harry, heading towards his laundry-covered bed.  
  
It was like Draco had gotten caught at nearly turning someone's hair green. "No..."  
  
"Ever the disobedient one," sighed Harry.  
  
"Oh, always!" said the blond boy.  
  
Harry began knocking laundry off his bed back onto the floor, shooting Draco a pointed look. "Are we going to rest?"   
  
"Absolutely. Of course. Have you no faith in me?" Draco managed a wounded look, coming over to help him with the removal of the clothes from his bed.  
  
"Bad faith," muttered Harry.  
  
"Oh, ahaha. You're so like your father, never letting such things go."  
  
Harry grinned a little. "He does seem to not trust you quite as much as mum does."  
  
"Understatement," Draco clipped. He pulled back Harry's navy blue comforter, revealing white sheets and an old, very raggedy-looking teddy bear. "Oh... sleeping around on me, I see."  
  
Harry blinked. "...What?"  
  
Draco laughed, eyes glinting. "Oh, don't even try to deny it. I know you're sleeping with Mister Bear!"  
  
Flopping down onto his bed, Harry glared up at Draco. "On second thought, I don't know *why* you and Dad don't get along better!"  
  
Draco tucked "Mister Bear" against his chest, hugging it a little. "Oh, you know I'm just being mean for the sake of my reputation. I don't mind that you sleep with your bear every once in a while. I don't, honestly. You know that, right?"  
  
Harry only nodded instead of muttering, "No?" like he wanted to.  
  
"In fact," Draco suggested playfully, "I think we should make it a menage a trois!" With that, he plunked into bed beside Harry, laying down just as comfortably as if it were his own bed, making Harry wonder even more, and patted the space beside him with wide, inviting eyes.  
  
//Bedroom eyes,// Harry thought out of nowhere, now feeling reluctant to trust his boyfriend, nearly as much as his dad was. After all, the door was closed, and... if... he... or this illusion's Harry and Draco were intimate...  
  
"Lay down?" requested Draco. "Come on, don't deny Mister Bear some due cuddle-time."  
  
Harry suddenly snorted, and grumbled, "Honestly, when did you become such a dork?"  
  
Draco just smiled in pleasure as Harry laid down next to him, warily facing him. "I don't know. You make me feel happy and stupid, all right?"  
  
"It's just so unMalfoyish of you," murmured Harry, finding his eyelids becoming heavy.  
  
Draco's smile drifted away like cloud covering the sun, eyes falling away from Harry's like the moon disappearing. "What, do you want me to be an arsehole?"  
  
Harry's eyes opened fully again in surprise. "Well, no," he exclaimed. He hadn't mean to tread into sensitive territory... but how could he have known? Malfoy had always been *proud* of his father before today... he felt himself lapsing into confusion again. Draco was as volatile as ever in reaction to Harry, that was for certain. Apologetically, Harry leaned his head in on Draco's shoulder, and again felt Draco's cheek rest against his head. He watched with bleary eyes as Draco's hands made Mister Bear wiggle and bend on his stomach, worn-out feet dragging Draco's black tee shirt in odd directions across his skin.  
  
"Tip-toe... through the tulips... by the garden..."  
  
Harry snorted again when he realized what Draco was singing under his breath, and that Mister Bear was in fact, dancing to the tune of this song. Dudley used to watch cartoons with singing animals, and he recognized the song from the old black and white shows.  
  
"That's where I'll be... come tip-toe... through the tulips... with me..."  
  
Mister Bear, or rather, Draco, ended the tap-dance by rubbing the bear's nose in an Eskimo kiss against Harry's nose. Harry couldn't help smiling in amusement. If only the real, Hogwarts Malfoy could see himself - he'd probably want to curl up and die on the spot. Draco tucked in Mister Bear between him and Harry, then slung an arm over him and curled in a little closer.   
  
Harry couldn't help feeling relieved. Maybe he was wrong about assuming Draco would... well... he couldn't think about it. He uncurled a hand from his side and found himself grasping at the loose material of Draco's tee, too afraid to touch Draco in any other way at the moment. Draco's hand was gentle as it began to minutely stroke Harry's back.  
  
//So confused... scared... happy. This... Draco... Mum and Dad.//  
  
And Harry slept.  
  
***  
  
Harry woke, sweat clinging in beads to his forehead.  
  
"Tip-toe... through the tulips... by the garden..."  
  
He touched his forehead and looked around wildly. His voice cut through the merry, exaggerated singing.   
  
"Draco?" Then he felt it - the rough, mended flesh of the scar on his forehead, hidden beneath his mess of sweaty bangs. And his chest hitched. And he finally realized where he was.  
  
In his bed, in his room - his real room - at the Dursleys'.  
  
It was still, completely silent except for Harry's heart pounding over the ridiculous singing he could hear from the television in Dudley's room.  
  
"That's where I'll be... come tip-toe... through the tulips... with me..."  
  
Harry stared at his ceiling, breathing in silent but large breaths, trying to place himself. What day was it? What hour? He'd been sleeping... what a wild dream... an unbelievable dream... His heart suddenly plummeted painfully, and hot tears were stinging at his eyes again.  
  
"Mum and Dad," he whispered, slowly rolling over onto his side. A tear trickled hotly over his nose, meeting the pillow in a pinprick of noise. His legs slowly drew up to his chest as he struggled not to totally lose it. God... he'd had dreams... terrible ones... ones that disturbed him to no end... but never one so incredibly vivid. He could remember every tiny detail to perfection! Just recalling the smell of his mother, the arms of his father, the yellow shutters on his house, sharing a milkshake with someone who loved him like they did in cheesy films - it made him ache rawly in his gut.  
  
"Mum," he whispered again, suddenly breaking and letting a sob out. His tears melted into the worn pillowcase, seeping out wet and salty and warm. The droning of Dudley's ridiculous cartoons that he shouldn't want to bother watching in his age anyway was drowned out by the sudden grief Harry was feeling.  
  
He'd lost his parents all over again.  
  
And Cedric... Cedric was still dead.  
  
And Draco was still his arch nemesis.  
  
It was all too much to deal with... just too much.  
  
//I sure made up a bloody great life for myself,// Harry thought miserably. //God... it hurts.//  
  
If he'd thought seeing his parents in the Mirror of Erised and appearing from Voldemort's wand was difficult, this was ten times worse. In that wonderful dream he'd spent half a day in the midst of people who loved him intensely, and now? The Dursleys. It was like waking up to a black hole.  
  
Harry cried himself back to sleep.  
  
***  
  
End Chapter One  
  
*** 


	2. Chapter Two

Title: Dreams Of Enchantment  
Chapter: 2/?  
Author: Mister Bear (Collectively: Krissy & Cassie)  
Pairings: Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione, mentions of Seamus/Harry  
Rating: PG-13 (so far)  
Warnings: slash (which means boys snogging!), AU?  
Notes: What started as an innocent piece of fluff as escalated into a rather epic tale. Okay, okay, so, we love to torture Harry, and we make it blatantly obvious.  
Disclaimer: All the characters belong to J.K. "I'm Your Goddess" Rowling. We're only using them for our sadistic pleasures. ;D  
  
Further Note: For all those wondering why Harry is not paired with Hermione in this fic (although it is clearly labeled SLASH for those who read warnings), ahem, the name of the game is Let's Torture Harry A Lot. D'ya really think that if Harry woke up and Hermione was his girlfriend, it would really be such torture? *winks* Trust us, kids, we know what we're doing! There's a method to our madness - or, at least, we'd like people to think.  
  
Even Further Other Note: Cassie is NOT Cassandra Claire - just thought we'd point that out. Again, Cassie of the Krissy & Cassie duo, Mister Bear, is *not* Cassandra Claire. Her normal pen name is, in fact, Aspen; she shares the ff.net pen name tasukichiriko with another of her writing partners, Kimmie. Cassie is her actual, real-life, given name that she decided to use for the hell of it. Sorry for any confusion?   
  
//...// denotes thought  
*...* denotes emphasis  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry's eyes were heavy and sore when next they slowly opened, and it was dim in the room thanks to the purple twilight outside. Harry's eyes stared out his window for a blank minute before realizing that there were the silhouettes of tall, pretty trees against the violet of the sky.

//Those weren't there before.//

And as if he was suddenly back in his body from floating around numbly, he became of the arm slung around him, of something furry and ragged digging into his side, and the walls surrounding the window being an intense, deep blue colour and absolutely *plastered* with Muggle sports posters.

//Dream?!//

He jerked a little, turning over again and finding Draco Malfoy staring at him with sleepy, but aware eyes.

//Is this real? Am I dreaming again?//

He could smell Draco, feel Mister Bear smashed between them... he saw Draco's chest rising and falling... heard his soft breath, and the color of his eyes in the navy dark of his room were catching all the light there was, glittering as if enchanted.

//It feels so real.//

His cheeks were sticky with tears. Harry blinked slowly, still caught up in Draco's eyes as realizations slowly hit him. //So I... I was crying... I must... I must have just dreamed of being back at the real Privet Drive.//

He was so mixed up. He didn't know how to feel about that. He was happy to be back, but devastated to still be there. Happy that he was back with his parents, even with Draco, but scared that he'd never be able to leave this... this different... world.

Harry jumped back to attention when Draco ran a finger over his cheek, wiping away his tears' trail. Harry colored ever so faintly... surely Draco wouldn't tease him about needing a hankie like he did in the real world. To his immense relief, Draco didn't seem to have anything to say, only looking at Harry with quiet love and tracing his finger over Harry's cheekbone.

//Right now...//

Harry found himself cuddling into Draco, immensely needing the real contact. Draco was warm, and real, soft and pliant in the right places, hard with slim-cut, delicate musculature in the others. And he smelled like... Draco. Meticulously clean, sweet, sharp. It was familiar - nothing overpowering or artificial, just... Draco, who fit against him quite perfectly with the ease of experience, who held him comfortingly.

//Right now... if this is a dream...//

He could hear and even sort of feel Draco's strong, even heartbeat. Clenched fingers slowly spread out into flat palms over Draco's chest, feeling it rise and sink with shallow breath, feeling it radiate with the heat of life. Harry tilted his head up to look at Draco in the face again, who offered him a soft smile on his perfect, soft-looking mouth. Breathing halted again as Harry impulsively leaned forward and touched a shy, hesitant kiss onto Draco's mouth.

Draco kissed back, endlessly sweet.

//I don't... want to wake up.//

It felt natural, right, good. Just feeling the shape of Draco's mouth pressed tenderly against his made Harry's confusion ease and his body become slightly emotionally and physically aroused. His body felt funny sensations as Draco's heartbeat quickened beneath his palms, picking up to a rate that outpaced his own.

It was so new, but it was like they'd shared a thousand kisses before. It flowed with much more ease than the sloppy one earlier did, and Harry's jerk was only with pleasure as Draco's tongue finally brushed against his lower lip. He gasped softly and let Draco's tongue invade, and trembled slightly at the hot, slick feel of it. He tasted amazing, and pleasure quickly started seeping like a black stain over his mind. It was as if Harry's soul was a puddle and Draco kept disturbing the surface tension as the sensations rippled with every slow, understanding movement of Draco's tongue with his. Nothing had ever felt so good in such an emotionally and physically combined kind of way, not even ten thousand Cheer Charms because it wasn't giddy, not even being held by his parents, because that wasn't so arousing.

Intense. It was hot and intense.

And then Draco teased against his lips and disappeared quickly. His mouth empty and tongue still frantic, Harry sought after it, tasting the inside of Malfoy's mouth for the first time. 

//Don't stop...//

At the contact, Draco made a noise that was a purr and a growl all at once, and that in turn made Harry's every nerve stand on end. Everything seemed to be sensitized now... Draco brushed his arm and he very nearly moaned.

Draco's hand moved up his arm and shoulder to his neck, cradling his head even closer in, and Harry felt their teeth click as their mouths were crushed closer. His jaw ached from his mouth being open as such, but he loved it. And then Draco was slowly maneuvering himself carefully on top of Harry's body, pressing him down into the mattress, and Harry did moan.

The hand at his neck left to attend other business, and Harry sucked in his stomach in surprise when Draco's hand slid beneath the hem of his tee shirt and up his stomach. He squirmed madly. That was *too* intense - *too* invading - he couldn't do that - not yet.

//Stop!//

Harry broke from Draco roughly with a yelp as Draco's fingers found one of his nipples and gave it a tweak. Body tensing with fear and confusion again, he managed, "Stop! Don't...!"

Draco immediately released him. "What? Did I hurt you?"

Harry panted in panic and began trying to back away from Draco, which was really quite pointless as Draco had him effectively pinned down on his back. He stared fearfully into Draco's eyes, watching the glaze melt away. Luckily, Draco felt him squirming and slid back off of him to the side. Harry immediately pushed himself back firmly against the headboard of his bed, knocking off a pillow onto the floor.

"What... what..." he was stuttering.

"You're all right, aren't you?" Draco demanded, breathing heavily.

Harry blinked hard and nodded, trying to calm himself. "I'm fine," he managed to gasp out, and finally his breathing returned to normal. "Way too fast, Draco..."

Draco blinked owlishly at him, "I don't understand. How could *that* have been too much? All we did at the ski lodge, just the other night... even *before* all that."

Harry inwardly blanched. "It's not you," he told him truthfully. //It's me. And...and how I've only *just* got my first kiss today, and how I can't even imagine doing anything more...// and a forbidden voice taunting added, //yet// added itself to his equation. After what had happened earlier, would he even be here later? Now, he wasn't so sure...

Draco's eyes narrowed, "Then what *is* it? You've been acting odd all day and I want to know what your problem is. First you act like you don't even *know* me, then forget our ski trip? You acted all surprised at either the mention of a place, or of a person. What *gives*?"

"Nothing," Harry muttered, glancing away with a frown. "Why can't you believe I just can't talk about it?" //Not that I *don't* want to, but I can't…//

"Why don't you try me?"

"You wouldn't understand!" Harry snapped. "I know you love me and everything, but you honestly have no idea what I've just been through!"

"Well, how the hell *can* I if you won't *talk* to me, Harry! I thought maybe... I thought maybe it was time for us to get on with our lives. You know? I thought... that you could finally put it behind you. At the lodge, you seemed back to your old self. It was the first time I'd seen you laugh in a month." Draco's gray eyes looked sharply at Harry. "I thought you were going to be okay. Now I think you're... I don't know, are you relapsing? Maybe you're worse off than we all thought... God, I don't *know*! So why don't you help me out a little and tell me?!"

Harry found that his hands had bunched up great fistfuls of fabric. "Relapsing?? What are you talking about? You already think I'm crazy!"

Draco clenched fists too. "Well, you're sort of acting like it!"

"I'm not supposed to be here!" yelled Harry to deafening silence. Draco was staring at him with a ghost of horror moving across his features. Harry sat, stunned at Draco's reaction. Finally, the blond boy swallowed hard.

"You know that's not true."

"And how do *you* know that, Malfoy?!" Harry suddenly reverted back to Draco's surname, feeling the familiar surge of angry annoyance that usually came with the appearance of Draco's pointed features. "I don't think *you* woke up this morning and your life was completely different than how it was before, and you *can't* go back, and you *can't* get out, and you can't make it stop and--"

"Enough!" Draco shouted. "I haven't got a clue what you're on about now! Are you delusional? Why are you acting like this now, when you seemed to be getting back to normal?? I don't understand!"

Harry sat forward eagerly. "Back to normal? What's happened?! Everyone's acting as if I've been sick or something - Draco - tell me."

"That's not funny," Draco whispered, shocked. "Harry... that isn't funny! Stop it now!"

"Believe me, Malfoy, I'm not joking."

"Stop it."

"Honestly, I'm not trying to be funny!"

"No, stop calling me by my last name like we're strangers!" snapped Draco. "It's just not enough to act like I'm some person you'd never be caught dead beside, then push me away when all I want to do is be close to you, and act like you've got no idea what I'm talking about when I say *anything,* is it?? No, please, hurt me a little more!"

"I don't belong here. This is not my life. I've never seen my mum and dad alive before," Harry muttered staunchly. "You're right when you say you haven't a clue."

"Harry, your parents are still alive."

"But they're not supposed to be!"

"Stop it, please, for the last time! Are you playing some elaborate game with my head?! You're still alive, Harry, your parents are still alive, and it's *not* your fault, and we've been over this all thirty thousand times."

Draco suddenly sat down in a huff, looking for all the world like he was old and tired, crumpling forward and putting his face in his white hands.

"What's not my fault, Draco?" Harry whispered.

Draco's body froze. "Don't," he said stiffly.

"Tell me what isn't my fault," demanded Harry. Draco lifted his head and stared at him with hard eyes and a fixed jaw that seemed ready to start trembling. Harry felt so close to finally understanding why everybody had been treating him like a little glass doll all day, afraid to handle him too roughly and see him splinter on the floor. He nearly shouted. "Tell me!!"

There was a sad silence.

And then, a few raps on Harry's door shattered the silence. Neither boy spoke, so the door creaked open only slightly. Hermione's cheerful face peered in.

"Hey, guys... Ron and I were walking to my house and we thought we'd see if you wanted to watch a movie with us and what's wrong?"

She'd belatedly caught the pained looks on their faces. She walked into the room, Ron behind her. He put on a good-natured grin.

"Aw, fighting again, lovebirds?" At the withering look from Draco, his grin dropped off. "Ouch, I seem to've stepped on sensitive toes..."

He awkwardly picked up a trophy from Harry's case and pretended to look at it, while Hermione simply looked at them both resignedly and cleared a spot on a rocker that had been completely hidden underneath a plaid bathrobe and some jackets.

"Let's talk," she suggested, folding her hands on her skirt.

Harry and Draco sat quietly, and the only noises came from Ron as he set down the trophy and picked up an identical one.

"All right," she said deliberately. "I'll start. If you're fighting about Harry's odd behaviour today, I think I could tell you something about it..."

"Doctor Hermione is in," muttered Ron from the corner.

"Well, what?" Draco asked. Harry just stared at Hermione.

"I stopped at the library after we went to Fortescue's," Hermione began, earning a grin from Harry. *That* was just like the real Hermione. "And researched a little on post-traumatic stress disorder... you know, it's really more connected with soldiers who have been to war and seen a lot of really traumatic things before their very eyes and come back shell-shocked, but... I think it could be applied in this case. It's a normal reaction after severe trauma."

"Traumatic incident?" piped Harry.

"We know, we know, you're all right now," she said as if he was seven years old on the floor playing with building blocks. "You keep telling us..."

"Well, he's being an idiot and acting like he has no clue where he even is. Is *that* normal, Hermione?!" Draco demanded. "Next thing you know, he'll be acting like he's seen Cedric..."

"Draco!" said three voices at once.

"That's really not the best thing to say right now, and you know it," Hermione rebuked.

"Where...where's Cedric?" Harry asked. He was met with an overwhelming silence, causing him to pause in hesitation. "Not a good thing to ask?"

Hermione abruptly stood up, putting a hand over her mouth and fleeing the room. Ron glanced from Harry to the front door Hermione had run out of.

"I don't know *what* your problem has been today, Harry," Ron said softly, then his voice rose, "but leave *us* out of it!" Harry watched with a sinking heart as Ron raced after Hermione, shouting, "Wait for me, 'Mione!"

Harry stared at the door for several seconds, then turned to look at Draco, who didn't say anything. "Well. Yell at me, too. I'm sure you've been *dying* to all day."

"I'd never yell at you for no reason. But you're acting extremely scary," Draco said solemnly. Harry snorted, and Draco's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"You taunt and tease me for *years* and you expect me to believe that?" Harry took no notice to Draco's reaction, the rant coming out before he could think of it. "You were always so hateful and mean, sarcastic and cruel, and not some 'nice guy' like you're trying to convince me now. People who make fun of DEAD parents aren't worth the air they breathe!"

Draco blinked, then rose from his position with his arm around Harry's shoulders. "I don't know what the hell your problem is, Potter," he said, "but I second Ron. Leave *us* the hell out of it! When you can talk like yourself, you know my number." Draco's fingers fumbled with a ring on his finger.

"*I* have the problem?" Harry thundered, "I don't *think* so, Malfoy! I woke up perfectly fine, THEN I find out I have parents, YOU'RE my *boyfriend,* and I live in a town I don't know! This has to be a sick joke, and I don't appreciate it!"

"I'm a sick joke, huh?" Draco's eyes widened, then a sneer settled on his lips. Harry was suddenly reminded of *home.* "Then here," he jerked the ring off his finger and threw it at him. "Here. Consider us *over.*"

Harry stared after him, wondering what had happened. "I never even did get my answer," he muttered as leaned back with a sigh.

***

For long, blank hours, Harry laid alone in his bed and stared at his ceiling. He hadn't noticed it earlier, but there was a photograph taped to the ceiling with Scotch tape. It didn't move as wizarding photographs did, but it was of a smiling Draco and an incredibly happy-looking Harry at a formal dance, posed in front of fake columns with fake ivy and fake romantic lighting - but the love he saw between them was anything but faux. In the picture, they were both wearing nice suits; Draco's snowy white with a black dress shirt and a white silk tie, Harry's just the opposite with a red silk tie. They were both grinning proudly, boutonnieres of the purest blood red roses pinned to their jackets. They held each other close in the picture, on the verge of laughter but sincere in their efforts to get a good formal dance picture for Harry's mum.

//I don't remember that night.//

Harry twisted around Draco's ring on his thumb. It was a plain ring, kept very meticulously polished and shiny, but undecorated. If he'd gotten it for Draco, it must have taken him months to save for. Did he have a ring like it?

//I don't know.//

He stared at the picture again, mind wandering.

//I wonder if that... was before... Cedric...//

The pain of Cedric Diggory's death in his own real world was still too fresh to deal with, and Harry's eyes leaked tears again. He turned his head, squeezing his eyes shut and willing them away.

//I wonder how he... died here.//

He buried his nose in his pillow, but it only made him cry more. The pillow smelled of Draco.

//I've just screwed up things with the person I'm supposed to be practically engaged to, if this ring is any show of how devoted we're supposed to be. And Hermione... and Ron!! Maybe I *am* going mad... I still don't understand anything... did I kill Cedric here too? Was it my fault he's dead? I have to get someone to tell me...//

Rolling back onto his stomach, he sighed, feeling his taut face crumble in the wake of more tears. He suddenly wished Mrs. Weasley were there to hold him.

//That's nonsense, I've got my own mum right here,// he realized, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to face her in tears like this. //No wonder they all thought I would break... I feel like I'm being ripped apart from the inside out.//

Silently, his tears flowed, unstopping. Harry let them, not wanting his body to fight and become more upset than it already was. The photograph of this world's Harry and Draco blurred before his eyes, and slowly, he began to sit up, not bothering to wipe his cheeks. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and walked towards what appeared to be a tiny desk in the corner, covered old schoolbooks and papers in his handwriting that he couldn't remember writing. A phone number or note here, old essays there. He wiped them all side and sat with a thunk in the desk chair.

A photograph frame had been turned on to its face beneath all the junk and papers, and Harry reached forward with curiously shaky fingers to prop it back up. The large photo showed the Lions hockey team, all on skates and in their uniforms. There was Harry, right next to Draco, of course, and Ron on the other side of him, standing tall and bulky in his goalie attire. Two other redheads made the picture alight - the Weasley twins had their arms slung around each others' shoulders, grinning their devious smiles, just as identical and close as ever. And if Harry wasn't mistaken, Seamus Finnigan was kneeling on one padded knee at the end of the group, a bit distanced from everyone. In the upper corner, there was another photo tucked, Draco's personal photo, covering a fourth of the team members' faces.

He looked just as handsome with a hockey stick as he did with a broomstick.

Impulsively, Harry plucked up the photo, and discovered it had been put there for a reason, obviously.

From that corner, Cedric Diggory's winningly pretty face smiled up at him. Harry set down the frame abruptly, still staring at Cedric. He looked just as he did at Hogwarts, and even without the photo moving, he seemed -- so full of life--!

With Draco's picture still in his hand, he placed the frame back down like it had been.

//How did it happen. How?!//

He tugged open a drawer next. It was full of writing utensils and other tiny junk. The next one was full of old magazines, address books, and schedule organizers. And finally, the third one seemed to hold something of value, for it was locked.

//Great, where the hell would the key be?//

Harry was too wrapped up in looking around to fully note that his tears had stopped and had once again left tracks on his cheeks. //Maybe Ron or Draco would know...//

Harry stood up and looked at the bottom row of his trophy shelf, where his books were. There were a lot of hockey books and even more saved magazines under there, as well as a stack of Hogwarts yearbooks resting on top of a stack of smaller yearbooks dating all the way back to his first grade year of Vernon Grammar School.

"Oh my God," he whispered as he yanked the very top one from the last year off. He nearly ripped the front cover off opening it to see every crease and spare space filled with signatures of names he recognized. "'Harry, have a great summer with Malfoy and take it easy! See you when practices start up! Stay strong. Dean Thomas.'"

So went most of the signatures, wishing him well and offering condolences from "the accident."

"The accident, the accident, what *accident*?" Harry muttered, looking for a signature belonging to Hermione, Ron, or Draco. He flipped the page. There, again, was Cedric Diggory, smiling a happy-looking smile. Above his portrait, the book had big black letters stating elegantly:

"LUMOS - THE HOGWARTS HIGH SCHOOL YEARBOOK. VOLUME XXXIII. DEDICATED TO CEDRIC DIGGORY - STUDENT, LEADER, and FRIEND."

Harry almost dropped the book. Then, he flipped back to the index, ran his finger down the D's, and found "Diggory, Cedric" with about twenty-five page numbers listed next to his name. He flipped to the first one, which was his portrait again with all the other seniors, listing his activities. Harry read them all out loud with amazement.

"'Academic Letterman, Class Board, Hockey, Honor Roll, Latin Club President, Marching Band, Drum Major, Pep Club, Student Council Officer, Symphonic Band.'" Harry blinked up at his trophies. "Cedric playing a musical instrument and being an Academic Letterman? Wow."

The phrase "Hogwarts Champion" burst forward in Harry's mind. Cedric had obviously been the big man on campus.

//Just like at Hogwarts.//

Harry thumbed through the pages until they fell apart in the center of the book, sending newspaper clippings tumbling out into his lap. Confused as to why those weren't hanging with the rest, Harry picked one up.

"'STUDENT DIES IN DRUNK DRIVING ACCIDENT.' Oh... God... no! No, Voldemort killed him!"

Harry's eyes devoured the clipping with detachment.

"Cedric Diggory, age 17, died Friday night in an accident on North Privet Drive, when his 1967 Voldemort was struck by a drunk driver who ran the red light of the intersection of Privet and Pine. The other three students in the car with him were not killed. Sophomore Harry Potter, Hogwarts High School's hockey captain, who was in the back seat driver's side of the vehicle, and was rushed to Pomfrey Hospital to be treated for whiplash, multiple cuts, and shock, but sophomore Seamus Finnigan and senior Cho Chang, Diggory's girlfriend, were released by police after questioning with only few cuts and bruises that were treated by the ambulance on-scene. Ludo Bagman, 34, is in custody of police for further questioning."

Aside from the small article, the school pictures of Cedric, Cho, Seamus, and Harry himself smiled up at him. He grabbed another article that had a large black and white photo of the smashed in driver's door of Cedric's car. It made Harry wince in pain... that tiny section of the car was almost unrecognizable, and while his side had been dented and the glass smashed, the other side appeared to be just fine.

//It's a wonder the rest of us lived!//

The only new information this article presented was, "The foursome was on their way home from a date at Hogsmeade Park, when Bagman ran his red light and smashed into Diggory's vehicle at 45 kilometers per hour, sending the car of teenagers into a spin. Diggory was killed instantly, while one of his passengers was taken to the hospital for mild injuries and the other two were detained for questioning. Funeral services will be held on Monday at eleven-thirty a.m., at Seeker Anglican Church. The Diggory family asks that any and all donations made be sent to Hogwarts High School's Students Against Drunk Driving program."

Harry flumped onto his back suddenly, the book resting on his stomach and the articles he'd clipped and saved still in piles on his lap.

//'The foursome was on their way home from a date.' Cho and Cedric... but... me and Seamus? This was only just at the end of the school year, and I've been dating Draco for a year now! What on earth was going on? And Bagman!! Driving drunk!//

The piles and piles of new information made Harry's head spin, completely overwhelmed once more.

//Seamus Finnigan. Why was I with Seamus Finnigan? Did Draco know about this?//

Suddenly, he sat up. He needed one of those address books, and needed it fast.

***

It was nearly eleven-thirty at night, but Harry knew he had to talk to Ron as soon as possible. Luckily, the Weasleys' phone number was easily found, and Harry looked about his room for a phone. He found a cordless one hidden under a pile of dirty underwear.

"Honestly, I need to clean my room," he muttered, dialing. "At least Mrs. Weasley can't send me a howler for calling so late."

A few tones and someone picked up. "Hello?" It was Ginny. 

"Er... hello... Ginny?"

"Harry, it's so late! Are you all right?" asked Ginny. Harry bit his lip. Even Ginny thought he was on the edge of it all? That was rather bad. He had to wonder if she had a crush on him in this world, too.

"I'm just fine," he assured her. "But I need to talk to Ron, it's sort of urgent."

"Hmm, I think he might still be at Hermione's... hold on, let me check for you." There was a click as she sat the phone down and ran off. "Ron!" he heard her distant voice yell. "It's Harry for you, he says it's urgent."

"I don't want to talk to him!" Ron's voice protested. "He was a real git today, upset 'Mione so much..."

"Oh, Ron, just talk to him... he needs a friend right now, you've said so yourself a million times." Ginny's voice was growing louder again, so Harry hoped she was bringing Ron with her. There was a shuffle and a slight grunt of protest from Ron, then:

"Hullo?"

"Ron, I apologize. WHY WAS I WITH SEAMUS FINNIGAN?"

Ron's patience was obviously short. "What are you going on about *now*?!"

"The night of the accident, I was with Seamus Finnigan. Why?" asked Harry.

"Oh, so I see you're now acknowledging something that happened in the past. Well, good for you, Harry."

Harry was desperate. "I don't want to argue with you! I'm sorry for earlier but I honestly think I'm going mad, and I'm very, very sorry, and I'm very, very confused, and very, very upset. Draco and I broke up and I need to know why I was with Seamus Finnigan the night Cedric died!"

There was a quiet sigh on the other end of the line. "I've never figured that out! Why don't you tell me? And you and Draco broke up?? God, why? You fight like three times a day, but you're like a married couple! What on earth could you have said to make him so mad?"

"Hey, how do you know I didn't dump him?" Harry asked, purposefully avoiding Ron's question.

"Like you could ever do that. You're a man obsessed, my friend. Just another reason I don't understand why you agreed to go out with Seamus on that date."

"Did Draco *let* me, or did I do it behind his back?" questioned Harry.

"I was of the understanding that Draco let you! Didn't Seamus' date cancel last-minute or something? It wasn't a wise move of you, Harry... you know Seamus is my friend, but..."

"But?"

"I never figured Draco would be all right with letting you do that. He's not Seamus' biggest fan or anything, jeez!"

"He isn't?"

"You know he isn't. What, are you confused again?"

"Quite," said Harry, miserably. In effort to try and make Ron understand, he added, "Ron... it's like... there's a fog in my head... and I can't remember anything. I'm telling you this honestly! I can't remember very important things all of a sudden, and I feel as if I'm going out of my head trying to remember them, and I need your help."

There was silence besides the buzzing of the phone. Then, Ron said slowly, "You've... lost your memory?"

"It feels like it." Harry took a deep breath. "When I woke up this morning, I woke up thinking my parents were dead, in all sincerity, I thought they were gone. Then Mum came in, and... and... I was shocked. I honestly thought she was dead!"

Ron seemed boggled. "Maybe Hermione was right about that PTSD thing she was going on about earlier at your house."

"If I was in a car accident and witnessed a death, then probably." Harry was close to tears. "But now I've gone and messed things up with Draco because I couldn't remember this ski trip, and I can't remember the night Cedric died even though I found my articles about what happened. I woke up this morning and something wasn't right. I can't believe Cedric is dead and my parents are alive and that Malfoy's my *boyfriend.*"

"Well, you're really confusing me, I'll tell you that much. And I don't know why you were with Seamus Finnigan, because yes, Draco does dislike him, quite a bit. He has since you two met."

"Since Draco and I met?" asked Harry in such a small voice that Ron was surprised.

"Of course... before you were Draco's friend, you were dating with Seamus Finnigan... do... you don't remember, do you?"

"No. But I'm trying Ron, please keep talking." Harry felt like he was taking notes in a class about somebody else's life.

"Well... all right, but I feel like a stupid git, Harry. You'd better be telling me the truth, because this is really odd and I don't like remembering about this stuff."

"I promise, Ron, I'm telling the truth. Please believe me. We're best friends, we have been ever since we met when we were just kids. I know that much. Right?"

"Yes," Ron sighed. "All right, all right. This is so odd, Harry... anyway, towards the end of eighth grade, you had pretty much decided you liked... guys... and Seamus had always been out... so you and him were sort of dating-together-whatever, whatever it is thirteen-year-olds do, acting all strung-up about each other, you know. It was rather awkward, but I know you guys had fun together, and we were all on the hockey team together, and then Draco moved to town, and..."

//I remember my first encounter with Draco Malfoy... in Madam Malkin's... he was drawling about Quidditch and brooms and his father and smuggling a broom into Hogwarts when first years weren't allowed to have them. What a git. He reminded me of Dudley.//

"...We met him one day at the sports supplies store when we were all ogling gear... he came up to us and started talking about hockey and he looks like *such* a figure skater, all dressed in black like he's at an art show or something, and we were cracking up about him to his face, which was mean, of course, but you know how kids are... The guy actually starts in on how he's going to be the captain of Hogwarts' hockey team when freshman year started, and we all knew that you were the star of the team, you always were... so we defended you, of course. Draco gets all red-faced about it, shoots this incredibly lethal look at you and Seamus, and leaves... and naturally, he was in every single one of our classes with us, shooting death looks every day at us. Such a lonely, sour person, he used to be. 

"Tried out for the hockey team and didn't make the first cut until Oliver Wood kicked off Terrence Higgs for skipping out too many practices. That was when we got to know him a little better, and, I think, when you started taking more interest in him than you were taking with Seamus, especially since Seamus wasn't on the team at the time and you were around Draco all afternoon every day." Ron seemed to be done with his explanation, waiting for another question.

"I dated Seamus Finnigan," Harry finally said, dazed.

"Yeah, for about five months."

"Did I make out with him?" 

"Er, not ever in front of me," Ron answered, which made Harry's heart a little happier, even if they had actually saved any making out for private places. "You were still too shy with that."

"Did I dump Seamus for Draco?" Harry wanted to know.

Ron laughed. "Well, actually, Seamus dumped *you*... I believe it was a immature ploy fashioned to get your attention; he didn't think you'd go so completely crazy over Draco in the time that followed. Now you see why I had trouble thinking you dumped Draco? You're a pansy."

"But I thought Draco hated us. I guess he started being friends with me?"

"Well, it's my personal opinion that he liked you from the very start. I've never told you that, though. This actually feels a bit like a confessional. Didn't your mum always tell you that you're mean to the people you really like? Okay, maybe that's just my mum's reasoning. But, yes, once you broke up with Seamus, you and Draco started spending all day, every day together, even though it took you bleeding ages to declare it an official thing, or what have you. Last summer, actually. That's actually when I started spending loads of time with 'Mione... we met her freshman year, too."

Harry wanted to giggle childishly. In his world, Ron and Hermione were still running in circles about liking each other. He supposed if he went off with Malfoy and left them to their own devices, they'd snap to attention a little quicker.

"How'd we meet her?" he asked, interested to compare it to what he knew.

"Well, at first we didn't know her very well, she being the model student type. She didn't have any friends, and always looked at us disapprovingly for disrupting class, and all that."

"Sounds familiar..."

"Good, I'm glad, I feel like an ass reciting all this to you."

"Keep going."

"Well, there was this one day we had a big test in history, and everyone flunked except her, she got full marks, as she always does, and this girl named Millicent Bulstrode. We'd both noticed during the test that it was Millicent who was doing all the cheating, looking at 'Mione's paper with that lazy eye of hers. The teacher accused them both of cheating, and Hermione was going to get suspended until we vouched for her that Millicent was the one cheating."

"Oh, so, we were friends after that? Oh, and why is 'Mione a cheerleader? She just hardly seems the type."

"Hahaha. Oh, definitely. Our lunch table was the best, always loud. Draco started sitting with us, and we all teased Hermione nearly every day about being so bookish, and how she hated that we all ogled the cheerleaders. So when tryouts were held, she tried out, and made the varsity squad just to prove us wrong. Turns out she'd been a cheerleader in her junior high."

"I can see her doing that."

"We were all pretty surprised. And God, she looks so cute in her skirt..."

Harry laughed, then confided something. "Draco was so mad earlier... I didn't want to tell him... I can't even remember our first kiss."

"Well, I wasn't present for that, I don't think..." Ron said in a teasing voice. "But you sure as hell were always all over each other by October... every football game, between every class, going off to the boys' bathroom during lunch... it was bad. And you're *still* like that!"

"I suppose I should call Seamus and ask him about that night."

"I... I'd call Draco first."

"He's so upset... threw this ring at me..."

"You gave him that ring on Valentine's Day."

"Wow, apparently I'm quite the sap."

"When it comes to him, you are. That's why you have to call him... you have to set things right again. I can see why Draco was so upset, because honestly, I was too. We were all very shaken by what happened to Cedric, Harry, and even more so because you were in the car with him. You had such a hard time dealing with it at first, you kept saying it was all your fault, and that it should have been you, and it took you weeks to start to put your life back together, and obviously, you're still not all quite together. Draco hates that it was Seamus with you when it happened and not him... he's upset that he let you go. I'm sure he's even more upset now that he's actually 'let you go,' so to speak."

"You're a wise person, Ron," said Harry quietly.

"I'm actually just reading cue cards that Ginny's holding up," Ron said, with a smile to his voice.

"One more question, Ron?"

"Sure, might as well."

"Does Ginny... have... a thing for me, by any chance?" Harry ran his finger down the spine of his yearbook curiously.

Ron burst out into laughter. "Harry, Ginny will always be your number one fan, forever and always!"

"Ron!" he heard Ginny squeak indignantly.

"That comforts me to the utmost," sighed Harry happily.

"Harry says that you really comfort him, Gin."

There was more squeaking. "Stop it, Ron! You're the worst!!"

"RONALD WEASLEY, GET OFF THE PHONE. IT IS PAST MIDNIGHT AND WE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!"

"Howler?!" asked Harry.

"You bet," said Ron. "Listen, want to meet up tomorrow again?"

"Sure, but I'll have to talk to Draco and Seamus, all right?"

"Right then. See you, Harry."

"Thanks, Ron. For everything."

"Sure, sure, mate, don't get mushy on me, now."

"No... not me. I save that sort of thing for Valentine's Day."

"Hah. Night, Harry."

"Night."

Harry clicked the button to hang up and laid the phone back on its dirty underwear pile, then took the yearbook with him and laid on his bed.

He read through all the signatures - Katie Bell, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Dennis Creevey, Lavender Brown, Hannah Abbot - he knew them, and they were all there. He flipped through pages until he found the sophomore photos and found himself smiling at how silly he and Draco looked in their pictures. Actually, Draco looked like a model in his, while Harry was all grins and tilted glasses. Hermione's hair escaped from the confines of her photo, while Ron was squinting with a sheepish smile. 

Curiously, he looked up Draco in the index and discovered that Draco was actually involved in all the more artsy things, hockey being an anomaly among them; Thespians, Art Club, Debate -- even Choir. That rather proved Ron's theory of how Draco had liked him from the very start. And Draco hadn't made the cut at first... that proved that he probably actually didn't play hockey before, and didn't have the raw talent Harry had, even if he looked really nice on skates. Just like Quidditch.

It made Harry glow somewhere inside. //Honestly, what a nerd... it's so... I don't know. Cute, maybe.//

Finally, in the back, on a page Harry's handwriting had labeled "RESERVED," he found the signatures of Hermione, Ron, and Draco. Hermione and Ron's were both short and blindingly supportive and loyal to him, while Draco's took up the entire rest of the page, in jaunty, jagged letters that were as aesthetically pleasing to look at as he was.

//God, I'm... really losing it if I just thought Draco was aesthetically pleasing. Oh, what's the point. I've already made out with him. Twice.//

As Harry read Draco's long signature, he found himself mouthing the words, only not whispering for his lack of breath. He suddenly felt as unsteady as if he were laying on the back of a flying Hippogriff.

"'Harry. You've come to mean more to me than anyone else ever has before in my life, and I thank you for every moment, and wish to be with you for so many more. You have been the light at the end of my tunnel, opened me where I was closed, healed me where I was torn. Oh, shut up, you should have known I'd write you a love poem in here. Ah, well - I know this yearbook is probably a pretty painful thing to read in light of what's happened in the last month, but I know that you will overcome. We will overcome, together, always. I love you. Yours, Draco.' Hell."

Harry laid the book down on his chest again, feeling flushed. It all felt so much more real now. Instead of being told he had a past with Draco, now it actually felt like he had one, and was starting to see how the whole thing came about instead of being hit in the face with it.

//So real. So real. Too real to be a dream.//

Harry closed the book and placed it gently on the floor beside his bed, then twisted and stared at his bedroom door. His parents hadn't disturbed him all evening. They probably figured he was asleep since he hadn't seen his friends to the door.

//Maybe it isn't a dream at all. Maybe everything at the Dursleys' and Hogwarts was a wild dream... now, that all seems so much more tangible from a Muggle point of view.//

He shook his head fervently, suddenly reaching down onto the floor by his yearbook and picking up the ragged Mister Bear, then tucking it in against his chest, where the curve of the bear said it had been pressed a thousand times.

//No, that can't be it. I have memories of an entire lifetime from that life, and next to none from this life. Even if this feels real, it's somehow not. I have to...// Harry's eyes drifted closed. //... go to Draco... I have to... find out the truth... somehow. If there is some reason I am here, if I'm meant to do something here... I must find out what it is, so I can get home to my real life.//

And again, Harry slept.

***

It seemed he'd barely closed his eyes when they opened again, to a loud clatter noise coming from the kitchen. His body wouldn't move for a second, it was so achingly tired. He could feel Draco's ring, still on his thumb, pressing into his cheek.

//Did I dream at all, or is this still a dream... I just don't know.//

Finally, his body sat up, and his mind shortly followed. He'd slept in his jeans and tee shirt, and went to his closet to see what kind of clothes he owned to change into now that he didn't have to wear clothes that were five sizes too large and worn down threadbare from washing.

There were so many hockey jerseys it made him sick, plus many tee shirts and, there in the back, his suit he was wearing in the formal picture taped to his ceiling. He reached out to touch it curiously. Soft. The dried rose was still pinned to it. With gentle fingers, he caressed a brittle petal.

He picked out a plain white tee shirt and, feeling the chill of the early morning, pulled out a green sweater to go with it. Then, he quickly changed, wondering where the bathroom was in his house, because he hadn't gone at all yesterday and he was regretting it now.

The bathroom proved to be right outside his room, and even though he'd just gotten dressed, he immediately whipped all his clothes off again, started the shower, took a pee, and climbed under the spray of hot water. He didn't even take off his glasses in his urgency, figuring they could use cleaning, too, what with all the crying he'd done the previous day.

He felt like he was washing years worth of dried skin away, and the dull ache of his tired muscles gradually melted away beneath the pounding wet heat. Harry quickly decided it was the best shower he'd ever had in his life. Even the soap smelled great... it smelled like his mum. He washed himself over at least three or four times before finally turning the water off and panting in relief.

Harry had adventures figuring out with toothbrush was his and what was in all the bathroom drawers, but he couldn't find a towel, so he stood naked and drip-dried while brushing his teeth and memorizing the bathroom that had cream-coloured wallpaper with tiny yellow tulips printed on it, white curtains, and a freestanding porcelain sink. Harry made another decision: he liked his house. A lot. It was *home* - so much more than the Dursleys' was, and he'd spent his entire life there.

But this felt right, instead of confusing, and ultimately frightening.

He wiggled into his underwear, jeans, tee, and sweater again, slipped Draco's ring into his pocket, then went out barefoot to the kitchen.

"Harry, you're up early! Get lots of sleep?" asked his mum, who was standing at the stove flipping pancakes. "Want some?" she asked, gesturing at them with the spatula.

"Yes, lots," replied Harry, to both questions, grinning and taking a seat next to his dad at their tiny kitchen table. James peered out from above his newspaper with a silly expression.

"It's summer and it's seven-thirty in the morning. You sure you're not ill?"

"I feel better," Harry assured his dad. Lily set a rather tall glass of orange juice in front of Harry, then returned to her pancakes, which she was flipping like a pro. She was still in a robe and nightgown, wearing his dad's slippers, long auburn hair curling down her back from her ponytail. Even in the morning, his mum was simply striking.

"What's the occasion, then?" his dad asked, folding the paper and attacking his own glass of orange juice.

"I was wondering... could you take me to Draco's on your way to work?" asked Harry brightly. James made a face. Harry wasn't sure if it was the orange juice or his request that had conjured up that face.

"This early? Will he be awake?"

//Does Dad not like Draco?//

"If he's not, I'll just wait," said Harry. "I really need to see him."

"So all day yesterday wasn't enough?"

"Ja-ames," Lily said sing-songedly. James sighed.

"All right, all right, it's not like it's out of my way. But couldn't Draco just come over here?"

"Er... I don't think he would..." said Harry slowly. "We had a bit of a row last night."

"Ah," said his dad, as if he'd known it all along.

Lily suddenly placed a platter full of hot pancakes in front of Harry and James, then slid into the seat across from her husband and began to serve them out.

"What did you two fight about, darling?" she asked.

"Er... Mummm," protested Harry.

"Oh, private things, I see," she nodded. Harry shot an apprehensive glance at his dad, who didn't look very amused. Harry fought the urge to ask his father just what it was about Draco he didn't like, except for he knew it was probably the fact that Draco would close doors when James asked for him to leave them open.

And despite how wonderful the pancakes smelled and tasted, Harry could hardly eat, paying attention as James started talking about the office, and he struggled to pinpoint what it was his dad did all day. It wasn't as if he could come out and ask - that would be entirely too odd, and he might land himself back in bed with a cold compress on his head or something like that. He stuffed in what he could, but he felt jittery about seeing Draco again. The ring was heavy in his pocket, and he hoped to return it to its rightful owner soon.

***

The Potters' car was a 1979 Fawkes, phoenix red with white detailing and tan leather interior. Wide-eyed, Harry sat in the passenger seat, thinking how much more arse this kicked than Uncle Vernon's stuffy, smelly, ugly company car.

"So, son, have you come up with anything yet?" James asked him as they pulled out of the driveway. Harry was waving goodbye to his mum, who was waving out the kitchen window.

"Er... sorry, what?" he asked.

"I asked if you'd come up with anything yet."

"For what?" asked Harry blankly.

"Your birthday. Remember? It *is* only a fortnight away... the big one-six, Harry, you said you wanted to do something? Any ideas yet?"

"Oh." Harry felt as if he should have realized. "No, I... didn't give it too much thought yesterday, I'll try and think a little more on it today. Maybe Draco will have some ideas."

"Harry..." began his father deliberately. "You know I like Draco..."

Harry couldn't help looking at his dad with an expression that blatantly said, *Do you?*

"Well, don't you think it's a little silly that you two spend so much time together? Well... I mean to say... I do like Draco, and I'm happy if you're happy with him. But you're young yet, Harry."

//Oh, God, I'm not prepared to defend my relationship with Malfoy!!// Harry wished he could find something to say to that. Finally, he said,

"You married Mum and you were high school sweethearts."

"Well --" James looked distracted. "That's different..."

"No, it's not," Harry said bluntly. "Are you trying to say that because we're both boys?"

"Of course not," he replied firmly, and Harry believed him. "I'm trying to say that because... well, you've been through a lot, Harry. I understand that you needed time to be by yourself and work out why -- why it happened, and to understand that it was no fault of yours, not by any account, that Bagman hit the car. And I know that Draco has earned more respect from me by merely being there for you to talk to whenever you need to, and genuinely trying to help you through it all. But don't you think that perhaps... the whole ordeal is making you cling to each other a little more than necessary?"

"Are you saying this because I was on his lap yesterday?"

James gave a feeble cough. "No!"

"Dad... I was seriously clinging to Draco before the accident, wasn't I? Well, nothing's changed. I can sit on his lap because I'm comfortable with him and I know he's not going to abuse that fact. I know I'm young, but I also know what I want. And what I want is to be able to be with Draco."

He stopped. He couldn't explain why. And he didn't know where that came from, but it was true. He felt the need to save this relationship that he hadn't willingly gotten into, but it existed, and it needed to exist for him in this place, and he was not going to let it go.

"Of course. I respect that. Still..." James turned into an elegant, neat neighborhood full of houses that were at least four times the size of Harry's. "Could you ask Draco to just leave the door open when I tell him to?"

Harry smiled, embarrassed to the core. "Of course. I respect that."

James nodded. Harry looked out the window, still smiling in spite of himself, wondering when he'd outed himself to his parents and feeling rather glad he didn't have the memory of whatever time had made James not trust Draco with him - it was probably even more embarrassing than his dad asking them to leave doors open like they were going to have mad sex every time he wasn't looking.

//Er... God knows, maybe we do.//

The thought made him shift a little in discomfort, and a minute or two later, he snapped back into reality from thoughts of making out with Draco on his bed, complete with the last disconcerting moment when Draco had put his hands under Harry's shirt.

//I'm sitting here next to my dad thinking about sex with Malfoy!// he realized, flushing and looking at his dad, who looked considerably more relaxed and pleasant than he had looked before. //Ugh, this is all just... TOO WEIRD! Now to go ask Malfoy to be my boyfriend again.//

He let his head drop back on the seat. The words "ski lodge" were forever going to suggest mad sex with Malfoy to him now.

"Buck up, we're here," said his dad, pulling to the curb of a sprawling mansion, white with box hedges and columns on the wide front porch and a black wrought iron fence surrounding the entire thing. Harry jumped in fear. *This* was Draco's house?!

"Thanks, Dad," he said, gulping silently and grabbing the door handle.

"Good luck," his dad managed, smiling. Harry also managed a smile in return, then got out of the car with a wave to his dad. James waved goodbye and pulled away, driving off down the street that was clean as a pin and nearly unrealistically rich-looking.

"I really hope Lucius Malfoy isn't home," sighed Harry, spotting an intercom near the box hedges. Pressing the biggest button, he waited for almost sixty seconds, heart beating fast, until a drawl asked,

"Yes? Malfoy residence."

"I-Is Draco in? It's Harry... Potter," he added as an afterthought.

There was a short pause and then, the same voice came crisply, "Yes, of course. One moment please, Master Harry."

And, true to the man's word, a moment later, the huge gates began to swing open. Harry walked through them dazedly, and up the massively long driveway of the Malfoy residence. This was it; time to sink or swim, time to place aside his pride for a greater good. Time to try and woo Draco Malfoy.

***

End Chapter Two

***

A/N: Draco being in choir at school is a homage to the actor portraying him in the HPatSS movie, Tom Felton -- our favourite choirboy. ^_^ *waves a little TOM FOREVER flag*


	3. Chapter Three

Title: Dreams Of Enchantment  
Chapter: 3/?  
Author: Mister Bear (Collectively: Krissy & Cassie)  
Pairings: Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione, slight Seamus/Harry  
Rating: R (so far)  
Warnings: slash (which means boys snogging!), AU?, angst  
Notes: What started as an innocent piece of fluff has escalated into a rather epic tale. Okay, okay, so, we love to torture Harry, and we make it blatantly obvious.  
Disclaimer: All the characters belong to J.K. "I'm Your Goddess" Rowling. We're only using them for our sadistic pleasures. ;D  
  
Note For This Chapter: Hello! ^_^ Thanks a *lotlotlot* for the overwhelmingly positive response to this fic. We'd like you to know how appreciative we are of the feedback. Due to some cursing and the sorta-leaning-into-sexual content, we've decided to bump the rating up to R. That means absolutely nothing, really, but we thought we'd better do it, just to be on the safe side. *cackles*  
  
Even Further Other Extra Note: We now have a mailing list for our joint fics (Dreams, Hallie, and any other ventures split between us). Discussion, cookies, and updates run rampant. Do please join! [http://groups.yahoo.com/group/misterbear][1]  
  
//...// denotes thought  
*...* denotes emphasis  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry reached up to lift the knocker on the Malfoys' massive, pristine white front door, but before his fingers could touch the brass, the door made a groaning noise, and squeaked open slowly. A hook-nosed butler's eyes dropped down to look at him, stiff body unmoving.

"Ah, yes, Master Harry, we weren't expecting you..."

"I'm sorry, I *am* unexpected," faltered Harry, now feeling quite rude and rather tiny. "If Draco is still in bed, do you think I could wait--"

"Oh, young Master Malfoy is awake, of course. He's in the drawing room, if I'm not mistaken... here, do come in and wait here, please. I'll alert him of your arrival immediately."

The butler moved aside, and Harry stepped up into surely what Buckingham Palace looked like in monotones. The shining floor, stretching as far as his eyes could see through the massive foyer and on through tall open door into a grand hall, was black marble with streaks of pearl and gold swirling through it. Harry felt incredibly scrubby in his usual sneakers, dirtying up the snow-white strip of carpet that shot up the middle of the room. The butler strode off down the right hall, and Harry could hear his shoes clicking against the marble all the way down it.

If Harry's eyes were open a little wider, they would have rolled out onto the floor.

//He's bloody *rich!* What does he go to a public high school for?//

The walls were tall and white, with gilded gold lamps with cream-coloured, tiny lampshades on them, every fifteen feet or so near the ceiling, to light the way on a party evening. Next to Harry was a tall mirror with a gold frame, reflecting his anxious, awed face. He glanced up - the ceilings, he would guess, were around twenty feet high.

It was sterile and dramatic, and rather cool. It was quite striking, of course, but Harry found himself wishing he was back in the cheerful bustle and mess of his own house.

//No wonder Dad seemed so surprised I wanted to come here instead of having Draco over to our house. I'd be afraid to live here, it's almost like a funeral parlour.//

Harry turned his attentions towards the open door of the main hall as a regal female voice wafted through the foyer.

"... and I want all new velvet draperies in here, black, of course, and I'd like them to be held back with gold tassels adorned with holly berries and leaves... and, over each doorway on each side of the room, a garland full of mistletoe..."

A woman with long, slickly straight gold-white hair that fell down her back in one long fall walked by, gesturing with an elegant hand to the top of the incredibly tall set of doors. She didn't see Harry, but the person who was following her, a harried-looking man in a suit who was scribbling furiously on a notepad cast him a furtive glance, then disappeared again.

"And, I think, a fourteen-foot wide wreath on each wall, with red silk bows..."

"Master Harry, young Malfoy will see you in the gardens."

The butler's stuffy voice made Harry jump, nodding and stepping forward in the hall a little. The butler strode forward quickly and shut the doors of the main hall quickly.

"You weren't seen, were you?" he inquired softly, turning halfway around with his white-gloved hand nervously on the handle.

Though it was a lie, Harry immediately assured the man, "No... no, I wasn't."

Impeccable posture still in tact, the hook-nosed butler relaxed visibly. "Very good. The Mistress hates to be... disturbed from her daily duties." He gestured down the hall he'd just turned down. "Now, Master Draco is waiting."

Harry paled, swallowing. "Which way are the gardens again?"

The servant dusted his hands, then snapped his fingers. "Ah... yes, the manor is rather confusing. Follow me, please."

Relieved, Harry scurried after the tall man as he headed purposefully down the left hall. How could Draco live in such a cold, empty place? It was spotless and well-cared-for, just like him, but... it lacked the happy warmth that the Draco Malfoy of this time and place had shown him. Lifeless paintings lined the dark wood walls of the hallway, and they passed so many doors that Harry wondered if the hallway did actually have an end to it somewhere. He felt as if he were an eleven-year-old following Hagrid around in Gringotts, the way this butler was so tall and the scenery so startlingly different.

"Yes... the Mistress is preparing for her annual Yuletide celebrations," said the butler conversationally, his pace never slowing. Harry's thighs ached from trying to keep up with him.

"But... it's only just July," he protested.

"Yes... but it *is* twelve days long, so there's plenty to plan for. She likes to start extra-early."

"Twelve *days*!" Harry nearly tripped.

Abruptly, the man stopped and turned to a door on Harry's left. He said calmly, "It's simply through this door up a brief flight of stairs that lead to two doors. You take the right, then go down the stairs. Then take the first right again and continue down the hallway till you get to the kitchens. You may cut through there and reach the side-door to the back deck. From the deck are the gardens. It's quite simple, but if you get lost, you'll run into a maid sooner than later. And it's unlikely at this time of morning, but, if you... see Master Malfoy or the Mistress or someone who is not wearing a servants' uniform, try to duck into a room. Most of the doors are unlocked, and... you'd do best not to get in their way."

When he stopped speaking, Harry's mind was whirling with the instructions and the sudden fear that Lucius Malfoy would pop up and bite him on the neck if he took a wrong turn.

"Sure. Er. Thank you," he said blankly.

"Right, stairs, right, straight, kitchen, deck, gardens," ticked the butler, opening the door for Harry to reveal a dark hallway to him.

Harry nodded and repeated his thanks, then walked through the door mumbling, "Right, stairs, right, straight, kitchen, deck, gardens..."

Bewildered and slow, Harry walked down the dim hallway, only finding the first flight of stairs by walking straight into it and falling face-first into it.

"What is this place, a labyrinth?" he muttered, wincing and shoving himself back up. Up the flight of stairs was the next door, and a tiny, cramped hallway that was nearly pitch-black and lead to an identical flight of stairs, only heading downwards. "First right again," he reminded himself, turning and finding that it was a wider, more used hallway that had natural light streaming in from a doorway down the corridor. Something suddenly occurred to him: he was obviously using the servants' halls, due to how tiny, musty, and darkened they were.

//Draco's dad mustn't like me any more than mine likes him,// mused Harry, finding himself in a much more brightly-lit kitchen all of a sudden. The cooks within were bustling about doing morning dishes and preparing already for lunch. The smell of bread baking whispered against Harry's nose.

"Hullo, Harry!" greeted one of the chefs. "You hungry?"

"Oh-- n-no, thank you," stuttered Harry, caught by surprise. The kitchen staff knew him too, so he had to have been here at least a few times. "I'm just on my way out to the gardens."

"Sure you don't want even a biscuit? Draco didn't touch his this morning," said the cheerful, ruddy man, "so we've got plenty."

"I've just ate, but thank you," he declined.

"You see if you can haul Draco in here so he won't go starvin' till lunch time. Oh! Havin' roast for lunch, I wouldn't miss it!" he winked, then attended his business peeling potatoes. 

"Right," said Harry, wandering through the busy kitchen until he found a door in the corner. When he reached it, he saw a massive deck littered with black wrought-iron furniture and several lanterns suspended from tall posts that were part of the iron fence structure around it. It was spindly and sharp-looking, but the sunlight was gleaming on the furniture since it was early yet and dew was gathered on everything.

//I hope I find him. I just don't even want to think about what a massive backyard they must have.//

He pushed the door open and headed out into the white sunlight. Down the steps of the deck he went, where he was relieved to see sprawling greenery and a massive garden that rivaled pictures he'd seen on the Dursleys' telly of royal gardens in Japan. There was even a man-made waterfall in the center of it. It was breathtakingly gorgeous, smelling of flowers and fresh water and clean air.

And there, amongst the beauty, sitting in a hammock suspended from a thick branch of a wild-looking tree, was a sullen figure in a black turtleneck, slim back to Harry, swinging slowly and silently.

//Does he know I'm here?//

Harry's steps made next to no noise on the neatly-cut grass, and he approached Draco without disturbing the peaceful atmosphere and calling to him. Finally, something must have prickled Draco's attentions, for he straightened and looked to his side like he knew someone was watching him.

"Draco," Harry finally attempted, and Draco half-turned in his hammock. His face was a curious mix of surprise and fear, but it iced over quickly.

"Harry, you shouldn't be here."

He turned around, trying to appear unaffected. Harry circled the hammock.

"I got that impression... er... ahaha!"

"What on earth are you laughing at?" glared Draco. "You should have called first, or--"

"You have a kitten," laughed Harry helplessly. The blond boy glanced down at the gray furball curled up in the dip between his thighs.

"Yes, so?" Draco sounded thoroughly annoyed. His eyes flashed up at Harry. "Oh, that's right, you probably don't *remember* that Ursula had kittens before we left for the ski trip that you also don't remember, because you probably don't remember that I even have a cat named Ursula, seeing as you 'don't remember' much of *anything,* do you?"

"Ursula...?" Harry was chuckling, but the laugher died a gruesome death on his lips as a frown killed his smile. Draco's mouth tightened as his pale hand curled around the kitten's body and scooped it up against his chest, like it needed protection from Harry. The dark-haired boy stood, his brain completely devoid of what to say, watching as Draco tucked the tiny thing up right against his heart and affixed him with a death glare that he'd probably had lots of practice fashioning, but not quite as superior and cool as the Malfoy of the wizarding world. His storm cloud eyes practically had lightning bolts shooting out of them.

"I..."

Harry grasped for words that just weren't there. Draco didn't offer a word, either, staring up at him in that defensive position. Harry simply dumbly stood rooted to the spot, the serious eye contact making his mind feel like a slate wiped clean.

//You came to apologize,// something deep inside reminded him. It must have been his heart, beating true and instinctual, in true Gryffindor fashion.

"I'm sorry, honestly," he began nervously. "I'd like... I'd like the chance to try and explain to you... I'm not lying, and I'm also not trying to hurt you, but... there's something wrong with the way I woke up yesterday... I woke up and I can't remember hardly anything that's happened, and I need your help to understand, and to try to remember..."

Now, Draco's expression was melting into confusion.

"You weren't just being an arse?"

"No!" Harry said earnestly. "I promise. I *promise* that there's actually something really weird going on here."

"Well, of course there is," murmured Draco. "Your brain, for instance."

"I'm guessing I deserved that," Harry said softly. "For hurting you...? Even though I didn't mean to."

"Telling me I'm not worth the air I breathe hardly constitutes as not meaning to hurt me." Curling the kitten into one hand, Draco gestured with the other with a grandeur sigh. "Sit, explain. And believe me, you have a *lot* of explaining to do."

Harry sat on the tricky rope contraption, and the power of gravity sent him sliding right into Draco. He blushed a little at their legs lining up; was Malfoy thinking the same thing he was thinking?

//I highly doubt I'll ever be able to separate the thoughts of sex and Malfoy again!//

Draco didn't appear as unnerved at their contact, looking at him expectantly. Harry took a deep breath. 

"I don't know where to start, exactly--"

"The very beginning, most obviously."

He sighed and pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "For a moment, you sounded just like the Draco Malfoy that I always knew. The one who made fun of my dead parents, harassed me and my friends every day, tried everything he could to get me to regret leaving the Muggles to go to Hogwarts, who... made me absolutely ill sometimes."

Draco's eyes were a bit wide, and there was a small mewling sound from the kitten as he tucked it into the generous hem of his turtleneck. "Right, you've lost me already. I hope you know that you're talking pure nonsense and I'm really going to get after you if this is an elaborate joke you and Ron set up or something..."

"I know you think I'm mad, and I know it *sounds* insane, but... I'll try to explain it all to you... if I can... if you'll let me."

And slowly, but surely, with Draco's eyes getting a little wider every few seconds, Harry started to babble about growing up at the Dursleys', the strange things that had happened to him as a child, how his horrid Aunt and Uncle had told him that his parents had died in a car accident, his home beneath the stairs, and how he'd found out that he was really a wizard, how he'd met Draco, how he'd met the wizard really responsible for his parents' deaths. Slowly, the sun rising ever-higher above them, Harry related the most important details to Draco, and the whole story came out.

***

Finally, Harry had nothing left to say, and sat back, feeling like he'd exorcised of a lot of inner demons. Draco pondered for a moment, then bluntly spoke for the first time since Harry'd opened his mouth.

"I think you're flipping insane."

Harry managed a pained grin. "I knew you would."

"Do you honestly expect me to *believe* such rubbish? What do you take me for, an absolute idiot? Honestly... witchcraft and wizardry? Muggles? Where did you *get* this stuff, and why are you... I don't even know anymore."

Draco looked more than fairly annoyed with Harry at the moment, and Harry was quickly seeing that this was a losing battle. His heart started sinking from his throat to the pit of his chest. Had he really expected Draco to believe him? Living a full day in this world had made him realize how crazy his real life sounded, especially stating all of out it loud to Draco.

//If I hadn't lived it, I wouldn't believe it either...//

Draco was now sitting there with a blank look on his face, staring forward into nothingness quietly. The kitten in his lap was only moving to take deep breaths of sleep.

"I told you you hadn't a clue," babbled Harry, kicking some of the perfect green grass beneath the toe of his sneaker. "Don't believe me if you like, fine. Then you'd really be acting like the other Malfoy."

Detachedly, Draco commented, "Half of me wants to believe you, because that would explain a lot. The other half of me is actually rather frightened of you right now."

"I'm sorry, Malfoy. It's true."

Sad eyes turned upon Harry. "Assuming everything you're telling me is the truth, and of course it isn't because it's far too bizarre and impossible, just to let you know... I honestly hate you in your dream?"

"It wasn't a dream," Harry repeated for the billionth time, frustrated. "*This* is the dream."

"Really, stop. You're being strange," whispered Draco. "You know it can't possibly... this is what's real. We've... loved each other for so long now... you're saying that it isn't true...!"

Harry clenched his fingers, deciding he'd better just indulge Malfoy. He should have known Draco would react like this... and this is why he probably oughtn't to tell anybody else. 

"I don't care what's real and what's not anymore. Draco." Harry suddenly reached out and took Draco's hand, which was cool, even in the morning sun. "Please believe me in just this: I can't remember anything. I remember who people are, what their names are, but I don't remember anything else... I don't remember our first words, I don't remember the time we've spent together, I don't remember our first kiss or our anniversary or... anything! It feels like waking up in the middle of a life that isn't mine. As far as my experience in my -- other life goes, I haven't gotten my first kiss yet. That... that kiss you gave me yesterday morning." Harry was now colouring warmly. "That was my first kiss, as far as I know."

Draco's lips were almost trembling with hurt. "Our first kiss... you don't remember it...?"

Harry felt like his heart was a ten-pound sandbag crashing through a wooden stage. "No. I-I'm sorry."

"Do you remember the day I asked you out?"

"No. I remember nothing about us, about anything. Ron told me I dated Seamus Finnigan, which... is rather... odd for me to hear." Harry swallowed.

"Finnigan." Draco's eyes had darkened.

"I've never held an interest in boys before," Harry admitted tightly. "I always hoped my first kiss would be Cho Chang. Well, Hermione kissed me on the cheek once, but it was rather like getting a kiss from a sister or something."

"Cho Chang?" Draco gave a half-hearted, half-finished smile.

"Yeah. I really liked her... she played Quidditch... she was a Seeker, like me."

Draco chuckled a sad chuckle. "Sorry I couldn't be your dream girl, then." His eyelids dropped closed, and a thin tear rolled quickly down his cheek and melted into his turtleneck.

"Oh -- no -- don't..."

Harry didn't know what to do. Now Draco was crying. Maybe starting to accept Harry's wild-sounding, but honest claims, but very upset nonetheless. Was he supposed to hold Draco? They weren't together anymore; the ring in Harry's pocket instead of on Draco's finger attested to that much. Harry nervously went with his instinct and edged an arm around Draco, who leaned into him, tears flowing freely and silently.

"I don't know what to do," Harry whispered. "I'm sorry. I don't know... h-how to do this."

"Have I lost you forever?" Draco's voice near his chest asked softly. "What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing!"

//Way to woo, Potter,// he told himself glumly. //Shouldn't have told him... now how will I get him back? He thinks I'm crazy and making up a bunch of stuff... and I'm not... even though I feel as if I must be. Is there something wrong with me?//

"I feel as if I hardly know you," Draco whispered, one cold hand still tightly holding his, the other cupped protectively around his kitten.

Guilt grasped at Harry's heart. Sure, he'd woken up in a life that wasn't his... and completely screwed it up. His friends were mad, his boyfriend had broken up with him, and he was making their Harry look like a mental case.

"I regret telling you now. You think I'm crazy... but I... I just wanted to be honest with you."

"How can you be being honest? If it's all a lie, Harry, tell me now. Please tell me it's a lie."

Now Draco was begging. Harry felt like a horrible person. "It's not. But I don't see how I can tell anybody else now. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you even more."

Harry closed his eyes and swallowed painfully, rocking the two gently with one foot and listening to the sounds of the waterfall distant in the background. 

"I love you. More than anything. I'd die if I thought it'd help you out." Draco's voice was dull. "But if you came here to try and get us back together, I just don't know, Harry. We've been through so much pain in the last couple of months. If all it's going to be is pain and you're going to go through the rest of your life saying things like you are, how can either of us live through it?" 

"If you don't want to, that's..." Suddenly, painful tears were pricking at Harry's eyes too, spilling over quickly without chance of willing them away. "I've ruined everything. I'm so sorry. I don't know what I'm doing, and I don't know... what to do!" 

"No. It's all right. Maybe you can't help it." There was a pause, and Draco's voice seemed to change suddenly. "Harry... maybe... maybe you really can't help it. I think you've proven within the last couple of days that you're *not* over Cedric yet, and I think maybe it was a mistake to try and put it all behind us when you haven't... I don't know, fully accepted it yet? Maybe you're having these dreams because... you can't deal with it. And it's your mind's way of not going crazy. Yes." He sat up and looked at Harry with a fiery expression not unlike one Hermione would have upon having an epiphany. "And you've blocked out the past because it's so painful. Harry..." He bit his lip. "I want to help. I don't know how. But I know that you're too important to just let go, especially when we've worked through all that crap with Finnigan and coming out to your parents, and... we'll... we'll work through it together. If you want to. If you want me to help." 

Harry was dazed by Draco's words, the heavy, sharp gray stare making him fumble with his words. "Are you saying... we're together again...?" 

"If you'll have me. You do know I love you." Draco laid his forehead on Harry's shoulder. Harry's body immediately flooded with an immense relief. 

Harry squeezed Draco's hand slowly. "I'm quite confused right now, but I know I need you with me," he told Draco, reaching up with shaky fingers to wipe his tears away. "I still can't remember our first kiss, but I can remember yesterday, and I know I don't want to lose it." 

Rather crazily, Draco said, "You realize that according to your limited memories, I now technically own your first kiss instead of Finnigan? This... is sort of soothing to my soul." 

Harry's ears burned with his soft blush. "It was a hell of a first kiss, I can say." 

"I want to kiss you very badly right now." 

The comment made Harry's heart thud. It was strange how he felt now. "Wh-why don't you?" he stammered. //Why am I even surprised anymore? This Draco is not only nice and dedicated and... cute, he's everything I could ever want. I do feel a need to be close to him, feel it as if it's always been there but is only now showing itself.// 

Draco, however, looked scandalized. "You know we can't here! Sitting close is one thing, but..." 

"Oh." Now he felt dumb. 

Catching Harry's look of dejected confusion, Draco bit his lip and said slowly, "My father... wouldn't approve." 

"Well, neither would mine?" Harry jabbed half-assedly. 

Draco was looking over his shoulder in newfound paranoia. "My father is a bit different than yours, Harry. You know -- okay, sorry. You don't. Well... your parents know about us, but mine do not." 

Harry took a slow breath in. "They don't??" 

Draco shook his head. "No. I've tried... I've *tried* to tell him... but he doesn't understand about anything, Harry. He never has. He never will. He doesn't even like me being friends with you. He only allowed me to go to Hogwarts because I agreed to keep perfect marks and apply for Durmstrang for university... I was two weeks away from starting at Smeltings when I met you, Harry. At the sports store... but you... don't remember that." 

"Ron told me," breathed Harry. 

"Did he? Yes, he was there too, wasn't he... and Finnigan. Attached to your hip, of course. God, I'll never forget it. The moment you looked at me... I felt like I'd died. But all you did was laugh at me..." Draco paused, sighing heavily, and Harry suddenly realized that these were painful memories for Draco. He didn't even have the slightest, faintest familiarity with them, and he felt terrible for it. Draco breathed in again and continued resolutely, "And I tried to find out if you were going to Smeltings too, just on the slightest off-chance... and as soon as you all announced you were going to Hogwarts, I told you I was going there, too, just to see if you'd take notice back at me. You were so little and gawky and beautiful." 

Harry, not knowing what to say, squeezed Draco's hand, flattered and fascinated by this side of the story. Draco absently rubbed his thumb down his kitten's gray-pink nose. 

"So I asked Dad if I could go to Hogwarts instead... and... he threw a fit. It was idiotic of me, but I had to see you again, and I had no idea who you were. So I bartered away the choice to go wherever I wanted after high school if I could go to Hogwarts. He's... so controlling. Do you think I'm even wearing these prat clothes by choice?" 

Draco gestured to his neatly-pressed gray slacks and dress shoes. 

"I -- I think you... look good," Harry managed honestly. 

"You always say that." Draco looked down. "Even if I'm just wearing jeans and a tee shirt. Or nothing at all." 

"You're going to make my nose bleed." Harry's blood was trying to rush in several different directions at once, and it made his head spin. 

"That'd be amusing." Draco perked a little. "I actually sort of like these cute reactions I'm getting from you... it's like... I get to teach you to kiss all over again!" 

"Did you teach me to kiss before?" blinked Harry. 

It was Draco's turn to blush now. "Don't be daft. You taught *me.* I've never had a boyfriend before. Or a girlfriend. My dad doesn't allow me to date, technically... just another reason he'd flip if he found out about us." 

"Oh." Harry couldn't help a pleased smile. At least he wasn't alone in his kissing ignorance... plus, the thought of anyone else with his -or her- hands on Malfoy made his tortured blood boil. He supposed Draco felt the same way about Harry's past with Seamus. 

"Call me sick, but... this could even be fun, in a way." Draco grinned with a bit of his old superiority. "I can't wait for the next time we get to be alone." 

"When will that be?" Harry asked dizzily, embarrassed because he actually couldn't wait, either, as long as Draco didn't try something frightening. 

"Hmm... Lars knows you're here, I suppose?" 

It took Harry a second to realize that Draco most probably meant the butler who'd seen him to the servants' passageways. "Yeah... am I not supposed to be seen?" 

"Well... we needn't worry. He knows about us and he helps me cover a lot... and, well, it helps if you're not seen, because then Father forgets to bitch at me about 'the ragtag company I keep,' but they won't... fry you, or anything." 

"Fry me?" laughed Harry. 

"C'mon." Draco took his hand back from Harry and lifted the fuzzy kitten to his chest. "I think if we can make it to my room, we can... remain undisturbed for at least a little while." 

That definitely aroused Harry's... interests. "Ooh, I want to see your room." 

"You've only seen it a couple of times," Draco admitted as the two stood. Harry's blood pressure rose even higher at the way Draco looked in his "prat" outfit -- the slacks fit him *impeccably* well, clinging and hanging in all the right places, and the turtleneck's stretchy material was so thin that he could faintly make out the lines of Draco's abdomen. His hair was nearly shock-white compared to its midnight blackness, his ivory skin more of a silvery peaches and cream in contrast to it. Even his buckle-style black dress shoes were sexy. Harry, walking slightly behind Draco as they started back towards the house, quickly untucked his tee shirt to hide the evidence of the effect Draco had on his body. 

//What I wouldn't give for a long black Hogwarts robe,// he thought nervously. 

"Mmm, kitty," Draco was cooing at his cat. "You're so precious!" 

Harry snickered a little. 

Draco looked up, blinking. "I sound like my mother referring to some ugly child one of her guests has with them!" 

"I saw your mother... preparing for a Christmas party already. She didn't see me, though," he added quickly. The two trotted up the stairs and onto the back porch. 

Draco made a face which showed great distaste. "She doesn't notice anything." 

Suddenly uncomfortable, Harry changed the subject, pulling the kitchen door open for Draco. 

"Guess you really like your cats." 

"Yes... thank you. I do. I certainly have enough. It's all over-compensation from my father, though... he won't let me have a dog, so what do I get instead? Four thousand cats. Good thing I'm not allergic, or there'd be hell to pay." 

Harry had sudden visions of Draco in a room so covered in cats that one couldn't see the floor or any wall space. Cats were climbing all over his head, and Draco was cackling, "On, on, my Dread Feline Army!" He had to smother his laughter at the very thought. It was so like Mrs. Figg that he paused to wonder if Mrs. Figg was of relations to Malfoy in this life. 

The excited man from before noticed the two walking into the kitchen. "Ah! Young Malfoy! Good mornin' to ya! Friend draggin' you in for brekkie?" 

"I'm not hungry," Draco said morosely. 

"Ahh, *sure* you ain't," he winked. "Biscuits are still warm in the basket, there." 

He pointed with a large knife to a little basket before returning the blade to slicing an onion. 

"I don't want any. Maybe some milk for Fang, though." Draco opened the refrigerator and got one of what seemed like a dozen glass bottles of milk from it. "Thanks, Dobs." 

"Don't mention it, don't mention it." 

The kitten mewling in one hand and a bottle of milk in the other, Draco nodded towards the hallway Harry'd come from. "Let's disappear." 

"Where's your room?" asked Harry as they did, indeed, disappear into the darkness of the servants' passages. 

"Third floor," replied Draco, navigating the passages with ease, as a blind animal would know its way through a house from knowing it by heart. They were silent the rest of the way, up two staircases and popping out into a well-lit hall, much more trafficked than the rest. "Last doors on the hall, the big ones right at the end, there. Hurry." 

The two boys stealthily rushed in a matter of seconds to the large set of double doors, Draco pushing one of them open with a foot and ushering Harry inside quickly. 

***

Draco's massively large bedchamber was by far the most interesting room Harry had ever come across, even for its lack of posters or pictures on the walls and the muted, dark colours of it. In the very corner was an extensive, solid cherrywood structure, bed on top, desk and over-stocked bookcases below. A bed much too big for only Draco and probably even for Draco's entire family put together was unmade, blood red silk sheets shining against black and white pillows and a fairly old, worn-out baby blue blanket. The blanket dripped off the bed over the bookcase. 

Harry blinked at it all, mouth falling open. 

"Yes, you were fascinated by the bed both of the other times you were in here, too." Draco rolled his eyes. "No, I don't fall off, and yes, it's safe to sit in the study underneath, and yes, it was my idea and my family hates it, and no, I'm not allowed to put things on the walls." 

Slowly, Harry shut his mouth. 

"Any other questions?" grinned Draco, shutting the door also with his foot, then toeing his shoes off to reveal feet in black socks. 

Harry shook his head mutely, looking around at the rest of the room. A walk-in closet, open to reveal enough clothes to suitably warm an entire third-world country; a large entertainment center with a telly and a stereo and forty video game systems, VCRs, and all sorts of weird devices; a bathroom door; it was almost like a four-star hotel suite or something. Harry had never seen anything like it. It was bigger than the Dursleys' living room, dining room, and kitchen all put together. In fact, Draco's walk-in closet was about four times bigger than Harry's home under the stairs had been. 

Any and all complaints of Draco's family life went flying from Harry's head. 

"You're a spoiled git, you know that?" he asked. 

"Oh, very spoiled. I like your room better. It smells like you." Draco smiled, carrying his kitten over to his closet and setting it down gently. From the depths, he pulled a dish, and filled it with some of the milk. "There you are, pretty Fang." 

"You keep your cats in here, too?" Harry looked around. 

"Sometimes some of them are in here." Draco sat back on his haunches and watched the tiny Fang as it lapped at its milk. "Ursula likes it in my closet... her kittens were born here. Shampoo prefers the kitchen, and so does her litter. Lucky sleeps in my bed a lot. Sometimes Terror and Horror are in the little study under my bed... they like sitting at my feet and clawing them to shreds." 

"You have... a lot... of cats." 

"I told you so!" Standing, Draco made a face, then took a swig of the milk straight from the bottle. Harry stared at his pale throat working near the confines of the cowl neck of his turtleneck in fascination. Draco finished off half of what was left in the bottle, panting. "I really am hungry, I just never eat anything at the table. I like to refuse to eat just to bugger off my father." 

Harry only blinked at Draco, who blinked back, unaware of the white milk mustache clinging to his upper lip. 

"Wh..what?" asked Draco. Before he could help himself, Harry moved forward and used his own body to move Draco back up against the wall next to his closet. Draco emitted a soft gasp of surprise. 

"We're alone," explained Harry briefly. Then, he pressed his inexperienced mouth against Draco's, the coolness of the milk left on his lips clashing with the heat between them. Thoroughly surprised, Draco remained still, allowing Harry's kiss as if unsure, but breathing like he'd just caught the snitch. Harry's breathing was nervous and labored, too, and their chests undulated against each other at the same time their mouths began to move in unison to deepen the kiss. 

//He makes me feel drunk...// Harry vaguely realized, thoughts dimmed and body finely attuned to every reaction Draco made. 

Shyly, Harry coaxed open Draco's lips and found his mouth cool and sweet from the milk. A shiver raced up his spine at the taste and sensation, and Draco squirmed, a noise not unlike a kitten's squeak coming from his throat. Harry slid his tongue along Draco's slowly, then shyness washed over him and he retreated, pulling back from Draco with an audible liplocking noise. 

He blushed, and Draco slowly opened glassy eyes. 

"You had a milk mustache," coughed Harry, embarrassed at his display of rabid hormones. He simply wasn't used to this making out thing yet, though he'd progressed to the point of wanting to do it. 

Draco responded by lifting the bottle of milk and chugging down the rest of it in marathon time. Then, he gulped and dropped the bottle onto the floor. 

"There, now I have another." 

With that, he threw his arms around Harry's neck and initiated another icy-cold, sweetened kiss. 

This time, as their bodies lined up again, there were two very obvious displays of rabid hormones meeting somewhere in the middle, and they both made soft noises at the heated contact. Harry's body flooded with heat as Draco's tongue invaded his mouth in a smooth attack. Harry felt much better under Draco's control. It still wasn't easy to admit to wanting to make out with Draco, or even maybe harboring a deeper sort of Want for him. The Malfoy Harry had always known could never have elicited *this* sort of response from him. 

His wandering thoughts and feelings were crushed under a stampede of sensation as Draco twisted his hips up at Harry. Harry gasped, trembling under the onslaught. 

With another loud noise, Draco broke from him and growled, "Did I scare you?" 

"Ah.. God.. no... I just..." 

"I want..." Draco seemed to mentally kick himself, cutting off his speech. "Well..." 

"What?" he breathed, blood pulsing all over and making him throb in very interesting places. Draco moved slowly and sinuously under him. 

"Well... would you... let me... take off your shirt?" Draco ducked his head a little, flushing up pink. "Sorry... I just... want to see you -- touch you... so bad... and..." 

Harry diverted his eyes and panted into Draco's neck, torn between fear of the unknown and sudden desperate desire to venture into the unknown... with Draco. Lifting his heated mouth to Draco's ear, he whispered, "All right." 

His boyfriend exhaled, and Harry suddenly felt Draco's heartbeat thrumming against his tee shirt. He felt Draco's hands slowly move up his back, then back down, then up again, this time taking the hem of his tee shirt with it... his fingertips barely brushed against the bare skin of Harry's back, sending him into gooseflesh and shivers of pleasure. He raised his arms so Draco could lift the shirt over his head, cheeks burning as he did so. 

Draco slowly dropped the tee shirt aside, staring with reverence at Harry, who was doing a full-body blush under the heated gaze. Harry wasn't sure what to do next, terribly excited and embarrassed at Draco's eyes devouring his bare skin. 

"Just like the first time. So beautiful," mumbled Draco, then in one quicksilver movement, had his turtleneck up and over his head, discarding it along with Harry's. Harry nearly passed out, completely overwhelmed. *Draco* was beautiful, not Harry. He was so scrawny and gangly compared to him... how could Draco actually *want* to see him without a shirt? 

But those fears quickly dissolved as Draco reached out, yanked Harry by the arms against his bare chest, and kissed him fiercely. The contact of their bare skin sent electric jolts through them both. Harry's gasp was one with Draco's as their hips aligned and Draco's hands roamed over Harry's bare back. Draco's skin was soft and perfect, and both of their bodies were still too young to be covered with much hair, but there *was* some, and just thinking about where the light, baby-soft strands on Draco's stomach that tickled his bellybutton led to was even more overwhelming to Harry. Time completely slipped away for the two as Harry gradually got up the nerve to put his hands on Draco's nude waist, and Draco got his fill of odd noises made by touching and torturing all sorts of places on Harry's body. When it all seemed to be overheating and the tension was in terrible danger of breaking, a knock on the door saved Harry from that embarrassment. 

They jerked apart like a fire had started between them. Draco cursed under his breath, and before Harry knew it, he found himself being shoved into Draco's closet with the door shutting in his face. In the dark, Fang rubbed against his ankle and mewed with interest at his intrusion. Panting, aroused, and displaced, he strained to hear the fervent rustling sounds Draco was making. 

//Getting dressed again? ...Oh, great, my shirt is still out there on the floor.// 

He sat down, picked up Fang to quiet the incessant mewing, and cuddled the soft bundle of fur to his naked chest, listening intently. 

A moment of silence passed, then Draco said breathlessly, "Enter!" 

Squeaking indicated that Draco's bedroom door was opening, and Lars' voice drawled, "Master Malfoy, lunch is ready to be served in the kitchens. Your father has just left for his trip to London, so you may take it up here if it pleases you." 

Draco sighed, relief heavy in his tone. "Lunch. Right. Thank you, Lars." 

Lars disguised a chuckle with a cough. "Has Master Harry... left so soon?" 

Draco laughed out loud. "Ah, no." 

The closet door opened, and Draco, once again in his black turtleneck, hair a mess, grinned down at him, Harry's tee shirt in hand. Harry glared up at Draco, holding Fang in the same defensive position Draco'd held the cat in earlier. 

"Time for you to come out of the closet, Harry," Draco said with much cheer. 

Harry retorted, "Actually, I believe it's time *you* came out of the closet, Draco." 

"Oh, HA," said Draco sardonically, the death glare making a brief appearance. "Why don't *you* tell Father for me and we'll see who'll want to hide in the closet." 

Lars was obviously very amused. "Shall I have plates sent up to you? You needn't bother to get dressed again." 

"Oh, get out." 

Laughing, the man left, and Draco was left to Harry's glare. 

*** 

"Thanks for bringing me, Draco," Harry nervously murmured. They were sitting in Draco's black 1996 Cadogan, with leather interior and a Stellar CD player. The car appeared to be a jeep, and Harry felt almost a freedom he'd never experienced before in it. Although, that probably had more to do with being with Draco, than anything else. They were parked at the curb in front of Seamus Finnigan's house. Draco wore a grim smile, but nodded in reply. "I... I understand you don't want me to talk to him, but he's my friend, all right?" 

"I understand," Draco tore his gray eyes away from Harry and stared out the window. "I don't like it, or him, but I wont be a jealous boyfriend, dictating who or what you can or cannot do." 

Those words made Harry sigh with relief. It was wonder enough Draco had agreed to bring him here, it was even more amazing that, especially now, Draco should trust Harry so much as to let him go to Seamus. 

"Thank you," Harry whispered. It came as an instinct, but he gently slipped a finger beneath Draco's chin, raising it enough to plant a light kiss on his soft, pliant lips. 

"So," Draco said, gruffly, when the kiss ended, "what time do you want me to come and get you?" 

"Er," Harry turned towards the window, glancing at the two-story ranch style home. "If it's just the same, I'll get Seamus to bring me home. I don't know how long this'll take, and well..." 

"You don't have to explain anything," Draco interrupted, his voice a light command. "I'll go over to Hermione's--Maybe between the three of us we can figure out and pinpoint what exactly is wrong with you. I'll call you, okay?" 

Harry nodded, and quickly pecked him on the cheek, and leaped from the car. Waving goodbye, Harry watched as the Cadogan turned around the corner and disappeared from sight. 

"Here goes nothing," Harry sighed. He walked through the gate at the front of the white-picket fence and up the sidewalk. Flowers littered both sides of the walkway, bright colours contrasting with dark green grass of the yard. A sprinkler was going in one corner, and Harry leaped over a growing water puddle. He faltered as he approached the steps leading to the door. 

//Do I want to know?// he wondered. //I could just turn back, and put this time behind me. Draco'd be pleased, and I wouldn't even have to worry about confusing myself more.// But he knew he couldn't. He'd come so far, already, and if he was going to be here, he should know it all. The good and the bad. 

With a new burst of confidence, he approached the door, knocking once. Stepping back and trying to keep his calm, he waited for the familiar sandy-haired blond to answer. 

"Hello?" a voice called before opening the door. Harry instantly recognized the Irish accent and he held back a smile. Maybe he didn't know *this* Seamus, but his...well, maybe this wouldn't be that bad, would it? The door was thrust open and Harry was met with an overwhelming silence. He took this opportunity to check the Irish boy out. His sandy blond hair fell across his face in a messy style, almost like Harry's, but it was longer, and actually appeared in a symbolic order. His eyes were dark hazel, specs of green standing out near the edges. He was dressed in blue jeans, which Harry couldn't help but notice were quite...tight, and a faded red tank top. 

"Harry?" 

Harry smiled lopsidedly, "Hullo, Seamus." 

Seamus' face was one of nearly pure shock. He blinked several times before blurting, "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but why are you here? Last time we talked you said you never wanted to see me again..." 

"I...I'd like to talk to you," Harry said, quietly. "I have something really important to talk to you about." 

Seamus bit his bottom lip. "First, before I let you in, is there any chance this will have anything to do with getting back together? Because..." 

"I don't think so," Harry said, softly. So, it really was as Ron said... Seamus regretted letting him go. 

Sighing, Seamus nodded, "I figured that. Well, come on in, and I'll help you with whatever you need." 

Harry smiled his thanks and followed him up the steps and closed the door quietly behind him. He cast a curious glance around the rooms as they walked, taking in the classy wall decorations and messy floors that just spoke volumes of a living family. 

Seamus led him up a staircase and into a bedroom. The walls were a dull white and a few hockey posters were on one wall, while awards and a few trophies were lined on a shelf on another. //Are we all award-winning players?// he wondered. He walked up to the shelf and gazed at a trophy. '1996 CHAMPIONS - BEST ALL AROUND TEAM IN COUNTRY.' //I have one just like this on the shelf,// he noted. 

"Have a seat." Seamus gestured to beanbag chairs in the corner. Harry shook his head and perched on the edge of the bed instead. Seamus fidgeted. "So, what was it you wanted to talk about?" 

"I, uh...need your help." Harry took a deep breath. "You know how bad of shape I was in after the accident?" 

Seamus' face paled, but he nodded mutely. 

"Well, when I woke up yesterday morning, I couldn't remember anything. I didn't know my parents were alive, or that Draco Malfoy was my boyfriend, or anything about *this* life. I've been trying to put things together since yesterday and all its doing is making me more confused." 

Seamus blinked, and said slowly, "You forgot... everything?" 

"Yeah," Harry said, glumly. "Ron told me a little bit about, er, us last night... and I know some of my history again with Draco, and everything else is blank. I want your help. Explain to me about you, please," he added at Seamus' frown. 

"I.. I..." Seamus sighed, "I'm surprised you would even want to know. You were so angry with me before. You started to blame me for the accident, because I asked you to come along... I only wanted..." 

"Wanted what?" prompted Harry. 

"A chance for you to see me without Malfoy around," Seamus grimaced at the memories. "He hates me, and it's not like it's not a mutual hate, either. I'm not a big fan of him, even if he is a hell of a hockey player." 

"Oh." Harry digested this. He could understand Seamus' reaction, after all, it was how he felt about *his* Malfoy. But this Draco seemed...different. He wasn't anything like the mean-spirited boy at home. "Well, do y'mind telling me about...us? I'd like to remember." 

Seamus stared at him for a moment, still unsure if Harry was telling the truth. Harry had never lied to him in the past, and he *had* gone through a difficult time... "All right, mate, what do you want to know first?" 

"Er," Harry stammered. He'd hoped for information, and now that he had a chance to know something, he didn't know where to begin. "How about when we first started to date?" 

Seamus closed his hazel eyes for several seconds, and then nodded firmly. 

"I've always known I was gay. I came out in sixth grade, believe it or not. You really don't have a relationship with someone else at that age, but hockey practice was always fun. Cute guys, in hockey gear, sometimes bashing into you... 

"Well, then in eighth grade, you told the hockey team you had something important to tell us... I couldn't even imagine what it would be, you were looking so serious. Ron knew, and kept giving you encouraging smiles. I thought maybe that you were quitting the team, and I think Oliver Wood was dreading the same thing. But it wasn't, and you said, 'I...I don't want this to change your opinion about me, I'm still the same guy, but... I'm gay.' We were all pretty shocked, to say the least. 

"Oliver clapped you on the back, and said it didn't matter as long as you continued to help us win our games. I think after that everyone fell into ease about it and no one said anything bad about it. After practice, when everyone else had left, I cornered you in the locker room. You stared at me for a few minutes, before asking me what I wanted. I said, 'Well... I was wondering, would you like to go out with me sometime?' Of course, I was a nervous wreck then, and it came out so fast I had to repeat myself. You took it in for several moments, and then said, 'Sure.' It was like a brush off of, 'Why not? Nothing better to do.' It was good enough for me, so I smiled and said, 'Let's go to a movie on Friday.' And after that, it was kind of like history. We came inseparable pretty quick and later you confided into me you'd never been kissed before, and neither had I, so I kissed you." 

"Oh," was all Harry could say. He began to digest the words. //So, I came out in eighth grade to the whole hockey team? I must've been very stupid or very brave. ....Gryffindor.// 

"I think you were both," Seamus said. Harry blinked. Seamus smiled, sheepishly. "You spoke out loud. I don't think you meant to, as seeing as you said Gryffindor and there's no such thing as a Gryffindor, outside those fantasy books we read, you know..." 

"Oh." Harry found himself repeating the utterance like a broken record. "All right, so I was stupid and brave back then. What happened on that date?" 

Seamus flushed, remembering their first date. "In all actuality? Not a damn thing. I was too nervous and you acted like you didn't even care. It wasn't until a few dates later when I kissed you, that you took me seriously." 

"Why didn't I take you seriously before?" Harry wondered. Seamus' face, which had been returning to its natural colour, flushed again, and he mumbled something beneath his breath. "What was that?" 

"I...had spent most of seventh grade hitting on you, indirectly. And, well, you thought I was just playing you. But I never was, because I was always in love with you." 

Harry felt bowled over. Two stupid thirteen-year-olds dating and experimenting with newfound sexuality was one thing... but he was... unprepared, to say the least, for this statement. When Seamus had prodded him about getting back together, it was no wonder he looked so disappointed. It wasn't quite as light as Harry had imagined. So he asked his next question. 

"Are you now?" 

Ducking his head, Seamus nodded and couldn't meet Harry's eyes. "Yeah... Especially after last year, when I almost lost you completely. The accident...." 

"Ca-can you explain to me about the accident?" Harry whispered. He urged himself not to cry, but it was so hard not to think about it. He lost a chance of really knowing Cedric in both worlds. To Voldemort, and to a drunk driver... "Was it my fault?" 

Seamus' eyes widened, and he shook his head in a wild sandy torrent of hair. He reached over and grasped Harry's shoulders with boyish, strong hands. 

"No. It. Was. Not. If anyone is to blame, it's me. I... I'd been trying to forget about you, trying to rid the images of you kissing Draco in the hallway." His eyes drifted shut, but he didn't let Harry go. "I was desperate to think of someone else like that. I was resentful, I guess. There was no reason for our breakup. But you were spending so much time with Malfoy, blowing me off for extra practice with him, or working on homework, that I thought if I broke up with you, it would cause you to remember *me*. It was so hard, Harry... so... hard. I felt like I was breaking, and then you went and fell in love with my nemesis..." 

Seamus was very close to Harry now, who was shocked with all the detail Seamus was providing him with. It was like he'd waited ages to get to tell Harry all of this. The Irish boy gathered himself before he continued. 

"Time went on. I ignored you in the hallways and started briefly dating Dean Thomas. You asked me why I wasn't talking to you at all and I went, 'Why? Is it familiar?' and walked away. We never spoke again until the day of...of... the accident. Dean and I were going to go on a double date with Cedric Diggory, and his girl, Cho Chang. Dean got sick, and had to stay home. The flu was going around... Well, I wanted to go still, so I asked you if you'd go with me. You were surprised and said you couldn't tell me until you checked with Draco. 

"You asked, he didn't put up much of a fight over it. So we went out, and had a blast. It was just like old times, once we forgot about our history. I... I kissed you in the funhouse, and you responded. Just like before. It was so sweet, Harry. I'd missed it so much. I always felt right with you. It turned pretty deep, before you broke away, looking ashamed, and angry, and I knew that I'd just hurt you a lot. 

"'What the hell was THAT, Finnigan? I'm *involved* with someone I love a lot,' you said. It nearly broke my heart but I had wanted it so much, for so long. We didn't speak much for rest of the date, and on the way home... I had to kiss you one last time. It was going to be my last chance. Because I knew you'd never go out with me in public again after that. So I kissed you. You pushed me away, yelling something about, 'Don't touch me. Ever again.' It startled Cedric, and he turned around to see what the problem was. And that fucker Bagman hit the car before we could even swerve out of the way. Cho and I came out fine, Cedric died on impact, and you...you could have been dead for all I knew. You were in a shock for a week, left in the hospital, and then once you healed from that, you had a lot of mental problems. Kept blaming yourself, and Cho didn't help matters. She ended up transferring to a new school because you and the school had too many memories." 

Harry stared down at his hands, sighing with guilty tears stinging his eyes. "None...none of that sounds familiar to me, at all... I wish it did, Seamus, I really do, but..." 

Seamus nodded, swallowing heavily. "Harry, can *I* ask you something, now?" 

"Uh, sure." Harry looked up, eyes watching Seamus carefully. His eyes roamed the blond's face like a deer-caught-in-headlights, timid and scared. Seamus was handsome, and in some unknown part of him, Harry knew he'd thought the same thing before. 

"If there's no chance for us to get back together," Seamus hesitated, "why did you want to know all of this? I mean, we aren't even friends anymore, and maybe I *wouldn't* believe you, so why put yourself up to risk?" 

Harry really couldn't answer that, so he stared intently at his hands, as if the answer were written on them. He didn't even know *his* Seamus well, but after Ron told him of his past here, he couldn't *not* just go on oblivious, while getting to know Draco, Ron, and 'Mione all over again. Didn't he owe it to him? Harry hesitated to speak when he noticed the tear roll down Seamus' cheek. It was like watching someone's heartbreak. //Second person I've made cry today...// 

"I had to know," Harry said at last. "Its like something you can't help *but* *want* to know. I can't really explain anything to you, but I know you believe me. You've been one to always be open to people, right? Giving someone a chance? Maybe that's what I was hoping for here, something of a chance to make someone else believe. I wasn't going to say anything, but..." 

Abruptly, Seamus clamped a hand over Harry's mouth and said with frustration, "I don't understand any of this. I really don't understand why you're even here, but I do know one thing." 

"What?" Harry croaked as Seamus released his mouth. His hand had been warm, so gentle and hot over his lips. 

"That I have one last chance." With that, Seamus leaned over and kissed Harry softly. Harry froze, completely, feeling the tenderness of his lips and an intense stab of how *wrong* this was. It was nothing like the kisses with Draco. It was short, unsure, and scared. It was so different that Harry felt his heart pounding in not elation, but fear. He pulled away sharply. 

"No," he croaked, again. "Don't, Seamus. Just... I..." Fumbling to his feet, he started for the door. "I didn't ask you to kiss me, Seamus. I just wanted to understand. Don't complicate things that don't need to be complicated." 

//That wasn't supposed to happen. That wasn't supposed to HAPPEN!// 

Good God, what had he done?! And what would Draco say? 

"Harry, I--" 

But Harry didn't listen; he was already running from the room. From the house. From Seamus. From too many emotions he wasn't ready for. Feelings he would never be ready for. 

***

End Chapter Three

***

A/N: Er, yeah, yeah, yeah. The next chapter actually WILL contain a bit more overall contribution to the actual plot... but we honestly had to get Harry and Draco back together and work out Harry's history with Seamus first. So, next time, more plot and less crying!... Wait, we meant more crying. >D *cackle*

   [1]: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/misterbear



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